My North Star
by LostFic
Summary: Pacifica needs to find her way again, and only Dipper can help. This story is a Dipper/Pacifica smut.
1. My North Star - 1

**Credit to skyblitzhart for the cover.**

 **I don't own Gravity Falls or any of their characters. They belong to Disney.**

 **This story is a Dipper/Pacifica plot-with-porn story. The lewds begin on chapter 2. The story takes place 3 years after the series, so the twins and Pacifica are 15 years old, but ignores all the events that took place after Northwest Mansion Mystery, so neither Weirdmageddon nor Ford ever happened.**

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It was a hotter summer than it had been in a span of years, weather extremes of a changing world leaving the air thick with heat and the humidity from the distant but never-far-enough ocean to the west, and swarming with gnats, a practical cloud of unbelievably annoying and air frolicking bugs that only left their diligent posts in the thick air to seek shelter from the hottest part of the day. And that's what it was now; a glance through the diner window to the barely visible digital clock a half block down at the modest bank spelled it out with primitive red LED lights. 1:13 PM, Monday the 18th, 101 degrees F. It didn't say 100% humidity with not even a single damn cloud in the sky, but it didn't have to.

What one would have seen if they were masochists, out in the heat to be miserable, through the temporary shifts in sun coverage, would be her staring at them through her diner's most about-faced window. She would appear to them, if they cared enough to be observant, faceless and young-boned, the only distinguishing characteristic worth an individual's aesthetic pleasure would be the blonde hair just vibrant enough to clear past the natural dulling factor of a window's view.

"Hottest day yet." Pacifica whispered more than said.

"Hmm? What's that now?"

Pacifica Northwest, heir to a grand fortune and the load of sycophantic balderdash that comes with, glanced up now. She had forgotten she wasn't alone here in the booth; she had brought her friends too, all seeking an oasis from the oppression of axial tilt. And she had forgotten what they were doing before they fled the sun… Maybe, she thought passively, she forgot that for the same reason she could never even remember their names. Her friends, that is…

"Nothing, just talking about the heat." Pacifica replied, eyes half-closed.

"I know, right?" Her friend began, filing her nails over the table even as sweat beaded on her brow just beneath her chocolate hair.

"Air conditioning barely works in here. Excuse me, can we turn up the AC, or are we too busy being poor?!"

And there goes the other. Pacifica watched Thing 2 spout off with fake importance and heat-induced frustration as Thing 1 half-contentedly filed away, editing errors that didn't exist in her otherwise flawless nails. In recent months, Pacifica had noticed how much her little satellites had been annoying her. She supposed it started after spring set in; they seemed even more ridiculous than ever before, and the charade she watched before her only made Pacifica all the more frustrated with herself.

"For the love of God… stop picking at your nails." she nearly let burst from her lips. "Your clumsy hands won't make the manicure better. And you just need to sit down!"

When her short hair friend sat down again, she couldn't help but think that Pacifica looked angry. Staring across the booth, she noticed her friend, or perhaps more relevantly her meal ticket to relative self-worth in the backwater of Gravity Falls, was slouching in her seat with eyes narrowed and teeth visibly grinding.

"Uhm… You okay Paz?"

"Don't call me that…"

"Huh." She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's hot. And I hate hiding in Lazy Susan's diner."

"I know, right?"

"Nothing better to say? That's not even an answer! Dumb cows…"

Things hadn't felt right in three years now. Maybe it was her. Looking out the window again, seeing Main Street run up and down the core of town, seeing the occasional foolhardy townsfolk scurry from one building to the next to sponge free air conditioning… Pacifica didn't feel the same.

"I don't know." She pondered. "Maybe I know too much now. Just like them…"

And with that thought she looked out the window again, this time for real. An interstate bus rolled by, its engine rumble just barely audible through the glass and the tedious behavior of her companions. The bus and the broken sentence together made her remember… well, quite a bit.

"Hey, do you think last summer was the last time they…?"

"…they?" Her nail-filing friend said earnestly, finally looking up, finally responding without a haphazard pop phrase.

Pacifica looked back at her little lackeys once more, both looking for some cue, some opening to best make themselves appear less useless. Their leader wanted to say what she meant to say. She wanted to say that she had had more fun when the twins were here than any other time these two bootlickers occupied her time. She wanted to say that there was this whole world just under the skin, and like blood and bone it was something that was hot, and fluid, and primal, and much more interesting. And she wanted to say that she missed them, Dipper and Mabel. Dipper and Mabel… and Dipper.

"Nothing," she said instead, brushing her long bangs out of the way, "just hot out there."

"You keep saying that. You alright, Paz?"

Silence was the only answer. And watching the bus open its door and let not a single soul out of the whole vehicle caused Pacifica Northwest to slump ever deeper.

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When a bump in the road woke him up by knocking his head against hard glass, it was already getting late. He had to rub the sore spot that may or may not evolve into a knot later, wipe a small patch of drool from his lip and look to the western sky before wakefulness would fully set in. The sun was going down...

"Mabel," Dipper said before yawning and looking at his watch-less wrist. "What time is it? Mabel?"

She was sleeping too, more peacefully than him. And why shouldn't she, she had taken his pillow and left him to slam his head into the window whenever the road should become bumpy enough. With her ears plugged and flooded with quietly playing boy band pop music, it would be likely that without Dipper's intervention she had sleep through every stop through to Canada. He took a look at her MP3 player; Sev'ral Timez on infinite loop? It stopped being cute when she was 14. Well… okay, so she was only one year older now. Maybe he'd say something when she was graduating, if it came to that.

"Okay Mabel," He said more to himself, switching off the cycle of love songs and pulling the ear buds out of her ears. "Mabel, time to wake up. We're almost there."

"Nooooo." She said sleepily, pushing him away by his face.

He laughed a little, giving up as soon as he had begun, but knowing that she would be awake soon. With a stretch and a groan, Dipper took to his feet and staggered from the back of the bus to the front. As he went, he looked out the windows and took to remembering; the mountains looked familiar now. They were definitely close. He wasn't entirely sure how close, since it had been a whole ten months since his last trip. Nothing had changed, it looked like.

Finally at the front of the bus, but still lost in thought, Dipper hadn't noticed that he was passively annoying the driver. The grizzled, bearded little man that operated the vehicle was scowling at him, but that seemed to cause little change. After seven awkward seconds, he cleared his throat, then unceremoniously began to shout.

"Whaddya want?!"

"Whoa!"

Dipper fell back a step, grabbing onto a seat rail for security as the driver's outburst coincided with a tight turn around the hillside. It took a moment for Dipper to regain his footing, but only a moment. Looking back at the driver, the teenager had to muffle any indignant anger that might have felt totally justified.

"Just wanted to know how far we are from Gravity Falls, man."

"'Bout twenty minutes. Please take your seat."

And with that, Dipper was dismissed. Staring out the windshield with an irked expression he submitted that the moment, for all its stupid worth, was over and, just as it fleeted, he also beat a hasty withdrawal. He dropped down next to his sister in the back seat just the driver took another turn in the mountaintop hairpin, making his landing sloppy and knocking him into his sister. But rather than become annoyed, Mabel did little besides giggle like an enthralled child. Once Dipper had straightened back up, swiping his hands over his shirt to correct any wrinkles he had accumulated in sleeping and falling about the bus, he sighed and habitually looked at his wrist again. Not seeing his watch though, he grumbled and turned to Mabel.

"Mabel, did you take my watch?"

"Why? I have my own watch."

Dipper gave her a knowing look.

"Okay, maybe." She said with a large grin as she lifted her arm and pulled back her sleeve, revealing she had two mismatched watches on her sweater addled wrist. "I thought it'd be funny."

"Well… what time is it?" He asked without anger or amusement.

"Heh heh, time for you to get a watch."

"I'm not laughing."

"Yeah you are!"

"Nope." Dipper shot back with a grin creeping onto his face. "You're not clever."

"Yeah I am!"

To drive the point home, Mabel began jabbing her brother gently in the ribs with her fingers, causing him to twitch and writhe and very much laugh. Ticklishness was one thing Dipper hadn't grown out of yet, it seemed. After a bit of this, though, Dipper finally caught Mabel by both hands, and holding the left steady he glanced at her ill-gotten watch. His. His ill-gotten watch.

"8:05? Is that right? Huh…"

"We probably shouldn'ta taken the later bus, huh?"

"Nah, it's cool." Dipper said with a shrug. "You had to take care of your biz."

"Yeah." Mabel giggled again. "Toby is so gonna love that letter I left in his shoe."

"In his shoe? Mabel…"

The twenty minute ride passed quickly in this way, all thought of time absorbed in this banter until the bus did glide into the street lamp glow of Main Street, Gravity Falls. The sun had set in the time between then and now, leaving only the amber glow of the old streets mixed with the fading neon of the town's one bar and the dim fluorescence of machines left on in one or two storefronts. All that and a pair of headlights left on, lighting up the side of bus station and standing vigilant as the last sign of activity in this bizarre and bizarrely sleepy town. It didn't take more than a quick glance to see what car it was; only one person in all of creation would drive that 50s POS with that ruddy paint job and that old, beat to hell paneling. The bus pulled to a stop, the door swung open with a grind and a hiss, and the twins shuffled single file to the front and out the door. And when the Pines twins set foot upon the pavement, there he stood.

"Heh, hey kids!"

"Gruncle Stan!" they shouted in unison.

The inevitable hug followed, the mutual glad-to-see-you laughter adding to the rhythm of the bus engine as the short, bearded driver lifted and dropped the twins' luggage. Dipper noticed the burly grump handling an important package much as he would a bale of hay, which made him jump into action.

"Whoa, hey, I got that man." He said almost shouting as he reached out to grab the long, cylindrical piece of luggage.

The driver only shrugged and returned to his work, closing the luggage gate when he found there was nothing else to withdraw.

"Take it easy, string bean." The gruff old dwarf said as he swatted between Dipper's shoulders in a jesting manner, as though they themselves were old friends. He did, however, shake Stan's hand before climbing back onto the bus and slowly pulling away.

"You know that guy, Uncle Stan?"

"What, him? Never met him before. In a war. In Grenada… Never mind that, let's get your suitcases in the car. And whatever the heck this thing is." Stan said with a raised eyebrow and tap on the long cylinder Dipper held aloft with a broad nylon strap.

"It's a telescope. Thought I'd bring it and check out the stars out at the shack."

"He's all into regular nerdy stuff now." Mabel said with a whimsical tone and a brief titter, "as though all that mystical, magical wizard crud wasn't good enough!"

"I can be into regular stuff too, Mabel."

"Pfft! That's what that sounds like!"

Between Dipper's laugh jumbled objections and Mabel's lilting giggling, the still street seemed more alive than it had been all day. As nine o'clock approached though, it was decided that the time had come. The three Pines filed into the dilapidated car and set off to the woods. Dipper glanced out the window as they passed Lazy Susan's diner, noting the lights turning off one by one as Lazy Susan herself closed up shop.

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It was already 11 AM by the time Pacifica had reached town, and it was already hot as sin. Yet again. She felt the sticky stagnancy of a body never left to dry, not feeling any less smothered by water from the moment she got out of the shower. Her long blonde hair still felt a mess, and Pacifica fought with it every other minute just to appease the crawling sensation in her flesh. Her skin shuddered under her purple t-shirt and jeans, and she mindlessly scratched at the fabric and wiggled her toes in her white pumps and tugged at her stupid matching designer belt that she thought had looked good in the mirror but now she just plain couldn't stand. In truth, she hated being out in town at all under the best of circumstances; it was painful, lately, to make believe with her parents.

But then, that's why she was here right now, idling awkwardly in front of the modest Gravity Falls Miniplex. Her parents were still at home, holed up in their self-righteous ivory tower, judging everyone down below as they scurried about on their short, pointless lives. And judging her.

"Paz, there you are."

"Don't call me Paz." She muttered tiredly.

"What?"

She didn't realize she'd said that out loud. Breaking from daydreaming, Pacifica stood up straight and waved her hand about, silently dismissing the unwanted drama of having to explain why she didn't like anyone calling her Paz. It seemed easier.

"It's nothing, let's just go inside already, it sucks out here."

Pacifica turned and looked up to the marquis. The movies were… terrible. No new films had been released in months.

"Gravity Falls Miniplex." Pacifica said with a mocking tone. "'Two movie theatre experience!' Who do they think they're fooling with that 're' spelling? This is about as far from European as you can get. Or maybe they're just bad at spelling."

"Should we wait for—?"

"We'll wait inside." Pacifica answered swiftly, leading the way in without pause for consent. Opening the door gave her an instant rush of… dissatisfaction. The air inside the movie theater was woefully warm, and Pacifica traveled from discomfort to near-sickness in the span of a second.

"What should we see, Pacifica? We should decide now."

"The two of you can figure it out, I'm getting a drink."

In the time it took to get her off-brand cola, Pacifica's second auxiliary made her appearance, and the two worked independently to select whichever mediocre film of the available two would be worth watching; the Northwest heiress paid the cost herself for the three tickets, knowing her mooch friends would likely stoop to asking anyway, and the trio filed into the theater to see…

"Evil Twin Three: Country Cousin?" Pacifica asked drearily. "This movie again?"

"You said we could decide," they said together.

They sat in the back together, Pacifica's friends together, happy to see the B movie flick that they thought had a cute male lead from ten years ago, then Pacifica herself at the aisle seat, considerably less amused as the horror film title card lit up the screen. It wasn't five minutes in before she knew that enough was enough. Just looking at the screen, watching the horrid cinematography, listening to the god-forsaken music choice of the opening sequence, all of that just meshed together with the sickly feel of the floor under foot and the implacable itch that ran up and down her spine.

"Bathroom." Pacifica said curtly, almost rudely. "I'll go alone."

Did she add that last bit for them, or for herself? She wondered that, but not long; the moment was gone in the blink of an eye. The restroom, she found, was cooler than the theater hall, and even the theater itself, though it smelled of ammonia and… well, something she couldn't quite identify, though for some reason it made Pacifica think of a cave. Her eyes found the mirror, and she saw frustration within. She took a step toward it, then another, then more, until she was at the sink, and the only thoughts in her head were mean-spirited and angry ones.

"I'm not here for this. Screw this! Screw them!" She shouted, the noise reverberating mercilessly around her. A deep breath to quiet her nerves echoed in the ceramic chamber just moments after. "Screw them. They can watch whatever movie they want, doesn't matter to me."

She left the bathroom, then the theater; the street was hot, and stretched out apathetically up one way and down the other. But this didn't make her feel bad any more than ditching her vapid little minions did. Actually, it was refreshing in a way. The weather was oppressive… but that wasn't because it chose to be, it was incidental. Pacifica's friends chose to be this way, this short-sighted, sucking-up for immaterial non-gain way. They were parasitic. But the world? The world just didn't care. Yeah, that was refreshing in a way.

Pacifica, refreshed all while being assaulted by the smothering summer air, decided she'd walk around. Maybe, she thought, something more interesting lay in one of the shops she had committed herself to disliking for so many years; the thought alone made her think twice about hating going into town. Maybe it was just the thought of being in town with her friends or family. One shop seemed particularly enthralling, drawing more than just Pacifica to its doors with a brightly colored sign and a flurry of sci-fi sound effects. She wandered in, not knowing what else to do, and not caring to know.

"Welcome to Big Gunz Laser Tag. How can I-? Oh, wait." The clerk said as he looked this new guest up and down. "Oh wow, are you who I think you are?"

"Yeah, probably. What's this?"

"It's laser tag, Miss Northwest!" The clerk excitedly barked. "Would you like to try?"

"Dunno." Pacifica answered, considering the annoying sounds, crowds of children and awkward adults, and above par air conditioning. It was almost cold in this building, actually. And clearly this isn't the sort of place Pacifica Northwest would be found… so naturally no one would look for her here. "Think someone could spend hours here?"

"Aww heck yeah, laser tag is awesome!"

"Fine." She answered. "Suit me up."

The clerk, happy to have such a high-profile customer, gleefully took Pacifica's credit card and led her to her equipment. She never had a chance to look out the storefront window and see the Pines twins as they wandered past.

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It was six o'clock by the time she got home, the heavy door of Northwest Manor closed behind by one butler or another; after a stint of hiring and firing, Pacifica didn't even know the difference between any of them anymore. It was sad, really, the anonymity… she wondered if they felt sad too. But before she could leave the room, there was a call for her.

"Pacifica, come into the study this instant."

The sound of her father's disapproving voice made her cringe; it seemed like disapproval was all he felt for his own flesh and blood, these days. Shuffling to the study with her head held a little lower than usual, Pacifica turned her eyes up to see him. Preston Northwest stood looking out the study window, staring down on Gravity Falls like it was that much further beneath him while she lingered in the doorway.

"Into the study, young lady."

His harsh tone stunned her as much as his sixth sense; she hadn't made a sound, at least in her mind. Just the same, she complied, taking a seat on a nearby chair, since she knew he would ask that of her anyway. Preston turned and looked at her with disdain.

"Where have you been?"

"I was at the movie—"

"You weren't." He said coldly. "You weren't at the movie theater."

She bit her lip and looked at the floor. He had an uncanny way of making people feel small.

"So where were you, who were you with, and what were you doing this time?"

That struck her wrong, made her blood boil a bit.

"Why don't you know?" She asked venomously. "You seem to know everything else."

"I swear, Pacifica!"

"Oh goodness, Preston, what are you carrying on about now?"

Mrs. Northwest entered the room calmly, a half-consumed martini between her fingers. She spun the drink in its glass out of boredom as she glanced at her daughter. Her mother's eyes, somehow, seemed more disgusted than her father's.

"Ah, I see." Mrs. Northwest said through her teeth, carrying on as if Pacifica weren't even there. "She made it home."

"Good to see you too, mom." Pacifica said as she trailed off.

"Pacifica, don't even speak! This is bad enough for you as it is!"

Preston paced about as his wife sighed and sat in an old wingback, sipping at her Cosmo without much more of a word or expression. Only the sound of her father's feet was audible… and like so many things today it made her flesh writhe. Finally, with a long, sad sigh, Pacifica dropped her head and closed her eyes.

"You can just… you can just say it now."

"Insolent girl!" He began. "Who do you think you are?! You're a Northwest! Galavanting around town like you've been! Do you think I haven't noticed? Always sneaking off! Leaving your friends and going who knows where!"

"Those two aren't my friends…"

"Pacifica." Her mother said with rolling eyes. "Don't interrupt."

Preston carried on without much of a notice.

"Do you think the town isn't talking? Spreading rumors? About you? And us?!"

"What? I haven't heard anything."

"They're saying that you're disgracing your family, Pacifica! Slinking off with one boy or another!"

She looked up into his eyes; he was serious, or believed he was. Apparently someone was saying these things. But who…? She knew who, actually. Those snakes. Deep down, Pacifica had begun to suspect that her friends had been false. There were little cues, little Freudian slips that pointed toward backstabbing.

"Dad, those are lies! Mom, you have to believe me!"

"It doesn't matter what we believe, Pacifica." He said with a sneer. "The town believes you're a whore. Frankly, I don't care what you tell me. You've been nothing but a disgrace these past three years. Now… get out of my sight."

She looked from one to the other, expecting some shred of empathy, any sign of parenthood. But Pacifica saw none of that. In fact, seeing much of anything in the room was hard. Numbed by the bitter vitriol, Pacifica couldn't tell why the study seemed like it was melting in front of her very eyes. When a warm, bug-like itch on her cheek caught her attention, she put a hand to her face and wiped away the first of the tears that began their exodus from her reddening eyes. Sobs shuddered from her gut, but she dared not let them out of her throat. The dignified thing to do, the Northwest thing to do, was get up and leave. But the front door was her destination rather than the stairs; if her parents wanted her in her room, they should've been more specific, she convinced herself. The butler was waiting, opening the way and shutting it behind her as Pacifica silently left the house. Through the heavy door though, the manservant could hear loud crying and deep sobs. He walked to the study, stoic features not betraying the waters that ran deeper.

"Anything else, Mr. Northwest?"

"Don't let her back into the house until she's ready to apologize properly."

The butler, no matter what he felt, no matter how much that voice deep down screamed to say something, anything, merely choked down his emotions. If he wanted to keep this job, he would do that much, if only for now.

"Yes sir, Mr. Northwest."

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She cried. She walked and she cried. And she kept walking for hours, her pumps clicking against the cement as she went about with burning tears streaking her face and ruining her make up. Every now and then she'd pass some poor sap on the street who would step awkwardly to the side like they were trained to. But to Pacifica, now more than ever, that was driving her outright insane. After about the fiftieth towny to dodge her, she started to run, stumbling a bit in her unwieldy high heels. She stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall long enough to pull her shoes free from her feet and tossing them to the ground before she started to run again, this time aiming for an open field with no one she would know there.

Her feet stung by the time she got to the field, not used to spending so much time on the hard pavement of the streets and sidewalks, and the cool feel of the grass against her soles made Pacifica slow to a walk. Her breathing was fast, hitched, and labored, and eyes were blurred by tears and exhaustion. It was dark now, or at least nearly dark, and only the last edges of the setting sun and the strongest of the town's lights were visible over the tree line. And it was all quiet. Only the sound of her breathing was at all audible here, challenged by neither songbird nor cricket. Walking through the short grasses of the field, Pacifica found a derelict, rusted out pickup truck oddly penetrated through the flatbed by a short, unhealthy looking aspen tree. This seemed as a good a place as any; she slumped against the ruddy thing and stared out across the field. The only thing in her line of site was an old wooden platform set up on ten foot tall stilts maybe a hundred yards off. It looked lonely…

She burst into tears again, sobbing loudly in her solitude and smothering her face in her knees. Her jeans were rough on her sheltered skin, and her running beauty products would probably ruin the fabric, but she didn't care. It had to be let out. It had to or… there was no or. There wasn't a choice. And for what felt like forever, there wasn't anything else, just the sadness pouring out into the quiet, uncaring dark. When she finally stopped crying, Pacifica looked up. The night was all that was there. No judging parents. No traitorous cronies. Just the night; and just the like the day, the night didn't care about her. It would have been nice if it had, but at least the night didn't hate her.

"At least this is okay." She said at last through near-silent sobs. "This is okay, I guess… Hmm?"

A flicker of light, a faint yellow-green. Chartreuse, maybe? She knew the color, but not that it would just pop up in the middle of a field in the almost pitch black. There, again, a fleck of light in the nothing, then another.

"Oh… fireflies."

The field started up with a life of its own, activity of the minutest form glittering in the air just a foot above the earth. More even than the apathy of world, the beauty of it stunned Pacifica and quelled her discomfort. And in that moment she was good again, if only for that moment. Though, she swore she could faintly make something else out in the dark, shuffling along in the grass about a hundred yards out, about as distant from her as the solitary platform.

"Is that an animal…? No. I think a person…"

She sat quietly, waiting for what may come next. It wasn't what she expected though. The figure in the dark stopped suddenly and began shuffling around in the distance. Faintly she could hear a voice, a young man she guessed. It sounded like he was frustrated, cursing tamely at a rock he had stumbled over. A moment later there was a light, and Pacifica reflexively ducked down behind her knees as though they would shelter her. Whoever he was, he had retrieved his flashlight and turned it on to illuminate his path. Without knowing it, Pacifica had started to crawl through the grass to get a closer look.

"That's stupid. Why didn't you have that on to begin with?"

The figure continued his path. The way he walked… even from this distance, Pacifica could tell it was a 'he'. Definitely an unfamiliar 'he', though. The figure stopped at the platform, befuddled by it for a time. Seems as though he had not thoroughly planned his journey, since now that he had reached the solemn structure he was having trouble figuring out its logistics. It looked as though he had a large burden: the flashlight, a bulky pack, and a long, obtrusive object, it seemed. After some juggling, the figure pocketed the flashlight and started gingerly climbing a ladder up the side of the platform, setting his load down on top when he had finally made it. She couldn't tell what he was doing up there… especially since she had managed to make her way to the platform herself, and now stood next to the ladder that the young man had just ascended. Sounds of unpacking and scraping and quiet mechanical adjustments met her ears, but nothing more defining than that.

"What are you doing up there?"

For a time, Pacifica stared up the ladder wishing someone would say something, that he would poke his head over the side and introduce himself. Something. Nothing is what she got. She shuffled her feet and crossed her arms, inwardly oscillating between speaking up and leaving. Finally, though…

"Hello." She said quietly. "Who's there?"

There was a pause in whatever was going on on the wooden planks overhead, but as it turns out that was less because of Pacifica and more because the young man sneezed rather kitten-like before resuming his work. Weird way to sneeze, she thought.

"Okay then… I'll just, uhm…"

Her fingers found the rough wood of the ladder displeasing, and at first she took her hands away from the splintering boards with a mind full of second thoughts. Her eyes glanced up, and there was just something about this that seemed demanding of follow through. A breeze picked up, and the way it danced with her hair made Pacifica feel at ease. She smiled and took a calm breath, filling her lungs with that cool air, and put her hands to the ladder once more, pulling herself up for one foot, then another, rung by rung until her eyes were over the top.

Whoever it was had set up some equipment in one corner of the platform; in the dark, it looked sort of like a camera tripod, standing to his left. There was a large, lengthy tube on the floor panels near the tripod, and to his right there was a lantern that he lit as she watched. The light revealed the mystery man in full, at least from behind, since he was facing away from her. Pacifica clung to the ladder and took note: the lantern cast a soft light across the lanky figure, lighting up his worn out jeans, pale red-striped button up shirt, and a shock of brown hair which hung messily over the back of his neck, pinned down by a baseball cap. Her heart skipped… it was uncanny, to say the least, how much he looked like Dipper. And moved like Dipper...

"Hello?" She said quietly. "Are you…?"

The young man turned slightly as he assembled his contraption, not enough to reveal his face but enough so that she could see he had ear buds blocking out the sound of the night, and keeping him from hearing her speak so softly. This whole thing was making her feel a little sad; was she seeing Dipper in this nobody just because she was so damn lonely? She could talk to him, though. Pacifica could climb up, tug on the guy's shirt, and Pines or not she could still strike up conversation, because anything would be better than going home. The young man had set the mechanism she watched him tinker with on the tripod, and she realized it was a telescope.

"No." She began to convince herself. "He's here for a reason."

As he put his head down to adjust the eyepiece, he bumped the bill of his hat against the telescope.

"Ugh, really?"

That voice… it was deeper, true, but it was still so very familiar. It had to be him. Pacifica poked her head up higher to watch the young man pull the hat off his head and toss it to the floor, and her eyes immediately took in the sight of the worn-out, blue pine tree woven into the white fabric.

"Dipper… Dipper Pines!"

She climbed up the remaining distance separating her from the floor and stood uneasy, watching him pause and turn his head as he pulled one ear bud from its place to investigate what he was sure was a voice. His eyes found her waiting, starting with her bare feet and working up to the top of her head.

"What? Pacifica Northwest?"

"Dipper." She said with a sniffle, doing her best to stifle it. "You came back."

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	2. My North Star - 2 (NSFW)

**NSFW warning.**

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The wind was calm, whistling through the trees and grass passively as the waxing moon slowly rose in the eastern sky. The fireflies had finished their romances, retiring in failure or in defeat, but leaving the field all the same. And at the same time, Dipper and Pacifica sat side by side, their quiet exchange of words adding only faintly to the summer breeze as they dangled their legs over the side of the platform. Pacifica had stopped crying, which she felt was a stunning victory since Dipper had spent the better part of the last hour watching her carefully and listening even more so.

"And that's pretty much my summer so far." She finished with a sigh.

"Huh." Dipper's breath hissed as he leaned back, propping himself with his arms. "That's… I'm really sorry about all that."

"You don't have to apologize. Nothing you could've done."

"Still though. You know that's messed up, right?"

She stared at the ground and crossed her feet, toes cold from the exposure to the wind while Dipper stared upward and out into the sky. Him saying that didn't really help; this was her normal, had been for three years. More than that, actually, but this was the scale it was at now. Still… it was kind of nice that someone felt that way with her.

"I… hate them. So much, Dipper."

Pacifica pulled her legs up, and shuddered with her knees pressed firmly against her breasts. Dipper watched a moment, frowned, then scooted back onto the platform. As he undid his shoes, Pacifica glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, noting him pulling his socks off. After a moment, he sat them on the plank next to her.

"Dipper, what's—?"

He stood up then, and Pacifica looked up to see his full height. He'd grown quite a bit since they last met… Must have been between five-seven and six feet tall now. Only fifteen, but so much less of a boy than he was before. And as he was pulling off his overshirt, stretching his chest out in front of her, Pacifica blushed ear to ear. Not as if he was bare chested or anything, she thought as she turned away, eyes screwed shut. That white undershirt did make him look rather manly though. Her breathing hitched when she felt the overshirt drape over her shoulders, and she looked at him again as Dipper sat back down.

"I know you probably think it's gross, but you can wear my socks if your feet are cold."

"That's… but what about you?"

"I'll be fine." He said, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. "You need them more than I do."

She pondered refusing them, but Pacifica had to concede to her numbing toes; the night air had more meanness to it than she had thought when she carelessly threw her shoes away. Picking them up and donning them one at a time, Pacifica accepted the gift of the socks, at the same time looking back to see what else Dipper had brought to keep himself warm. There was little else; a backpack with food and water that he had thoughtlessly shared with her, a flat mat, and a sleeping bag.

"You were gonna stay out here all night? Looking at the stars?"

"Yeah. It's beautiful out here, you know?"

"What about bad weather?"

"Oh, weather report said nothing but clear skies tonight."

"That's pretty brave." She said with a smile. "Must be nice to have that kind of confidence."

He laughed in a cavalier way, setting Pacifica at ease. And as Dipper looked up at the stars again, she helplessly glanced at him again. He looked… he looked good. He was thin, he was bony, but he looked good. He definitely had confidence. He always did, though. Letting her sock covered feet slide back down so her legs could relax, Pacifica absentmindedly pulled Dipper's shirt tighter around her torso, drawing the collar to her nose. He had a smell to him, trapped in his shirt, that made her skin come alive and her eyes to flutter. It also stoked a flame deep inside her, gave her a warmth she had felt in fleeting moments when she thought about what was really, deeply attractive in a man. She liked that the smell made her feel that.

But when she looked at Dipper again, Pacifica noticed that he was watching her, seeing her take deep breaths from the collar of his shirt and cross her legs tight. He didn't know much about women, but he knew what this was. And it was a little stranger for him than the other way around; he wasn't sure what to say.

"Uhm…" He said without certainty to his tone. "If you're cold, uhm. You can, I don't know… cover up?"

He glanced over his shoulder to his sleeping bag, and her eyes followed. That sleeping bag was for him… it wasn't very large, and would be unlikely to accommodate them both. Assuming they laid side by side with a gap between them. It was tempting though; it looked warm, and she wondered if it smelled like him too. At the thought of that gap not existing, and being surrounded by that faint musk, Pacifica bit her lip and pushed back from the platform's edge.

"I'll probably need to undress a little…"

"I'll, uh, give you some privacy." He said, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"I'll trust you not to look." She said with another hidden blush, secretly hoping he might though.

As he willed himself to stare off at the treeline, Dipper's heart raced as he thought about what was happening behind him, a fire building down in his gut and below because of the pure, justified excitement he felt. He didn't plan to do anything with it, since she was so fragile right now, but it was a strong pull he felt just the same. He heard Pacifica undoing her belt, the metal pieces clinking quietly as they bumped each other and the floor boards. Then the rustle of clothing, the sound of her jeans strewn on the wood. The faint, smooth run of the zipper as the sleeping bag was opened, the stretching shudder of the fabric as Pacifica worked her body into it… but then nothing, not a second zip.

"Dipper… you'll get cold if you stay out there."

"O-oh, uhm…"

He turned to look, and the sight sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. Pacifica had adjusted herself so that one of her long, smooth legs was pulled up, with her arm propping her body up so her breasts were framed perfectly in the V of her shirt. And her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder in a modest bid to hide her endowments. None of this was accident, he knew that. No, though. Be better than the other guys, he told himself.

"You know, Pacifica, it's fine. Just, uhm…" He lost his train of thought briefly as she shifted her body, causing her breasts to sway about in the loosened confines of her shirt. "Just get some… rest…"

"Dipper." She said a little more sternly. "It's cold outside. Climb in, and you get some rest."

"Hah, o-okay."

He stood up slowly, shuffling awkwardly a moment before sidling less than casually to the lantern, bending down and switching it off without ever turning around and exposing the erection that had grown into being despite his better efforts. His display was a little cute, and it made Pacifica smile. That and the fact that every breath she took inside the bag was another noseful of Dipper's scent, making her core burn a bit hotter with each inhale. She could see though that Dipper was trying to climb into the sleeping bag with his pants still on. This, she decided, would never do.

"Are your jeans still on?"

"What? Yeah."

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable not wearing them?" She asked with a mild tone, shuffling her legs a bit. "I know I would."

He didn't answer, but she could see and hear him struggling with his belt. A heavy thud indicated that Dipper had freed himself, but it was a long, chilly moment before he had timidly crawled in next to her, turned away from her and keeping a notable distance.

"Closer." She whispered. "We can't close the bag if you're that far away."

Again, no answer, but he scooted his body in a bit; still too far for her liking, so she tugged on the seam of his shirt. He scooted in a little more, until she could feel his heat.

"Good, now we can keep warm together."

"Heh, yeah." He said with a nervous chuckle, clumsily reaching to the edge of the sleeping bag and pulling it over their bodies. With some effort he managed to zip it mostly shut, which pushed the two nearly on top of each other.

Silence, palpable and deep as the dark, smothered them both. Pacifica took the moment to ask herself if she wanted what was on her mind, or if it was just the day dictating her emotions. Pressing her breasts against Dipper's back, feeling him take a sharp breath, and sighing audibly as a spark ran through her womanhood, she knew she had to commit.

"Dipper…" She said, laying a hand on his side. "I need to ask you something seriously. And I need you to answer me seriously."

"Yeah?"

"Lately I… I haven't been feeling beautiful. At all." She whispered calmly. Feeling his breathing through her chest helped keep her going, because the sheer sincerity of the subject threatened to derail her. "Am I beautiful? Do you think I am?"

"That's… that's silly. Of course you… yeah. Yes, I think you're beautiful."

Her hand slid down to his stomach, then in a single swift motion it found its way to his swollen member, hidden from the world only by a thin layer of boxer shorts. Shuddering noticeably before turning to lie on his back, Dipper's face came within a mere inch of Pacifica's and she was taking in air in shallow breaths just as he was. Her hand moved up and down his shaft through the fabric.

"How beautiful?"

Magnetism brought their lips together, an equal parts rough and gentle kiss that was occasionally broken by an awkward flick of the tongue every time Pacifica manipulated Dipper's erection in a way that excited him. A few minutes passed like this until Pacifica had managed to pulled his cock through the gap in his boxers, gasping as she ran her cool fingers over the blazing hot flesh. She knew through rumor that boys would talk about how she would make them feel this way, but Pacifica never guessed it would be so hard and warm to the touch. Grinding her thighs together as her hand moved and Dipper writhed compulsively made her shudder too, every flex of her legs putting pressure on her soaking nether regions.

She began to crawl over him, pressing her breasts against his chest as her own tongue started swirling around in his mouth, teasing him with expertise he hadn't ever bothered to acquire. His hips bucked a bit as he felt her warm, soft body, and his left and right hands found their way to the back of Pacifica's head and her firm buttock. He instinctively squeezed, causing her to moan into Dipper's mouth. The kiss broke, and she leaned back as she straddled him to pull her shirt over her head. Pacifica's hair fell in a golden waterfall over her shoulders and breasts, which Dipper felt was a crime; he swept her hair away, taking in the sight of her round globes held in place by a lacy bra perhaps three years too mature for her. When Pacifica undid her bra, letting those full orange sized breasts hang free, her eager lover greedily reached out and cupped them, making her gasp.

"Mmm, Dipper…"

"They feel so… amazing."

"You think they're amazing? You think I'm amazing?"

"Of course I do." he said without even having to think about it, massaging her breasts in his hands as gently as if they were porcelain.

Pacifica moaned, grinding her hips into his waist as he handled her, setting her body on fire again and again every time her clitoris felt stimulation through the fabric of her panties. She couldn't take anymore, it was now or never.

"Dipper." She pleaded between gasps. "Take me please."

She worked her body over until she was on her back, struggling all the while to get her underwear down her long legs and off her ankles. Dipper, himself fighting to get his own clothing off, occasionally made their efforts all the harder. But then the moment came when he was on top of her, bare chest pressed against her own, throbbing, ready cock eager to drive its way home in her equally eager womanhood. She felt him pushing the head of his member against her entrance, noticing that there was some resistance. Then she remembered.

"Just…" she said before he plunged further. "Just be gentle. It's… you're…"

"Don't worry." He said as he kissed her. "You're my first too."

Hearts beating at break neck speeds Dipper and Pacifica moved in unison to slowly push him inside. The rip of her hymen caused Pacifica to yelp, and whimper for a moment. But then she felt ready, and started pushing her hips onto him. It was a slow, stinging process, but eventually she had welcomed his full length in, and Dipper started moving on his own. He was gentle, not thrusting so much as shifting in and out of her, which clearly felt amazing for her as she gasped with each movement and held him tighter in her arms.

Pacifica's excitement and the tight feel of her walls around his member as he moved galvanized Dipper's own pleasure, and he began to fear that he wouldn't last. Another thing he knew, or thought he knew, was that he definitely shouldn't finish first. And he honestly had no idea how close she was, though the growing volume of her mewling was a strong indicator. It all seemed like a blur to him, but out of nowhere Pacifica shuddered and cried out in short, high-pitched pants. Her legs pulled Dipper tight against her, and he could feel her pussy clutching onto his member with all its might. When she finally unclenched, Dipper stared down in bewilderment.

"You okay Pacifica?"

She pulled him against her lips by the back of his head, swirling her tongue in his mouth again. "Shut up and keep going Pines."

He complied, moving his hips with vigor and confidence when he realized that he'd pleased her, not hurt her, eager to bring Pacifica to a second orgasm before he let his own happen. The feeling of Dipper's rod driving deep inside with ever rising speed made her growl and happily moan, made her run her finger nails down his back and bite his neck. She had no idea why she did those things… it just felt right. And what the hell, it made his hips move faster, and the faster those hips went the better she felt. But then Dipper pressed his lips to hers before coming to a stop.

"Hmm? What's wrong Dipper?"

"Pacifica, can we try something?"

"I'm not doing anything with my butt, if that's what—"

"What? No! No, uhm…" He said with an invisible blush. "Just follow my lead, okay?"

With some effort, Dipper guided Pacifica up onto her hands and knees, and she knelt excitedly in wait for what she had heard rumors about through her sycophants and their even more ill-reputed connections. Holding her steady with one hand, Dipper meticulously aimed his stiff member until he found her nether lips, and with a strong, smooth push filled Pacifica to the brim. She gasped loudly, head tilted back as far as it would go and mouth agape.

"Ohhhh fuck." She cried in her mind. "Fuck gentle! Fuck it!"

Dipper found his stride again, breathing hard as he focused on driving his rail home again and again, bashing his waist against that lovely ass and grinding in deep. He grunted as his mind started to fade out, lost in the animal lust this position started filling him with. It felt great… this felt like what they were always supposed to do. A short while in, Dipper noticed that Pacifica was starting to push back against him, and it felt to him as though he was plunging even deeper than he could get on his own.

"Keep-! Keep fucking me Dipper! Please!"

His fingers dug into her hips and he held her tight, and with each thrust he gave her and each one she returned, Pacifica slowly sank down to the floor, arms giving out under her dazed body. Dipper didn't stop, didn't lose track even once, committed fully to fucking the living daylights out Pacifica Northwest. He pressed his body on top of hers as she lay flat on the sleeping bag, his hips never quitting their grind even as he tasted acid in his throat. For her part, she felt an explosion waiting to happen in her body, egged on every time she felt Dipper's cock grind past her clitoris and nudge ever so slightly her cervix, poking at her womb with each thrust. When she thought about that in her beleaguered mind it quite simply excited her. What would her parents think if a Pines had, not only popped her cherry, but planted his underclass seed in her belly?

"Fuck them! Fuck it!" Pacifica screamed as she felt herself on the edge. "Fuck me up, Dipper! Fuck up my family tree!"

And it happened. She felt his cock harden and spasm, expanding ever so slightly and stretching her virgin womanhood to orgasmic limits. Pacifica opened her mouth in a silent scream, tongue lolling out in time with every spasm of Dipper's cock as he growled and shot hot, thick ropes of his semen deep inside his lover's pussy, his perfectly positioned cock head forcing more than just a little of his load into her womb.

Dipper and Pacifica lay there, one on top of the other, each gasping for the cool night air even as their hot, sweaty bodies reveled in the heat they had created together. Dipper, having a little sense return to his head, bit his lip and pulled his softening member free. The action made Pacifica shudder in delight, lifting her hips as he slid away. He was the first to speak.

"Oh god, Pacifica." He muttered. "What did I do?"

"Wha…?"

"You, I… I came inside you. What if you—?"

"No, no. That won't… oh fuck… that won't happen." She rolled over and kissed his neck. "My paranoid parents have had me on birth control for a while now. You're good. Mmm, you're good…"

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

They fell asleep in each other's arms, Dipper pleased but shocked, Pacifica dazed and utterly satisfied, completely reversed from her melancholy. The night hours passed quietly, neither of them disturbed by the tethers of their world until dawn broke. It was the birds that woke Pacifica, and when her eyes fluttered open she was briefly worried about a couple things. Was it going to be Dipper there? Was she going to be at Northwest Manor, having simply dreamed the whole ordeal? When she took a deep breath through her nose, though, taking in that unmistakable musk, Pacifica smiled and glanced at her lover. He was snoozing peacefully with his mouth open, snoring ever so slightly. She ran her hands over Dipper's body, first only his stomach, then his chest and stomach, then down to his waist, then lower. She met his flaccid member, and the torrent of memories rekindled the lust in her body. More… more was in order.

She crawled down into the sleeping bag, a rather tight fit, but she wouldn't be stopped. Dipper was bold enough to try something he didn't know would work, and she loved it start to finish. This would be the same, she was sure. Working his penis in her hands until it showed a little life, Pacifica calmly put her tongue to the head and experimentally swiveled it around. Dipper shivered in his sleep, a faint groan echoing out from his throat. When she performed this trick again, his cock twitched and grew in her hands, and she decided to up the ante. She bravely opened her mouth and took as much of his erection into it as she could, moving her head about in an approximation of what she heard boys liked.

As Dipper writhed under her ministrations, slowly waking up from his stupor, Pacifica found that she rather liked the taste of his cock… and she wondered what his seed would taste like. Would it be worth it to have it in her stomach instead of in her womb? It did feel amazing having that molten hot liquid in there… But she would decide that shortly. Letting his member free from her mouth and working the saliva coated thing in her hands, Pacifica mused happily to herself.

"I can't believe how lost I let myself get. But… at least I found my way back. Guess that makes you my north star, Dipper Pines."

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 **Next chapter in a couple days.**


	3. Secret and Pines - 1 (NSFW)

**NSFW warning.**

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It had been going on for a month now. She wasn't sure how often it was happening, but it was troubling, even if that wasn't the word her brain put to it. There were any number of other ways to describe how he was acting… weird, that was probably how she'd best like to say it. Yeah. Weird.

It was weird how Dipper wasn't spending as much time around lately, but that was only a superficial understanding of the present circumstance. It was precisely weird that Dipper was frequently disappearing at curious hours in the day, or night, and it was weird that sometimes he'd show up a half-hour later, sometimes not for hours, sometimes not until the next day.

Full disclosure though? The one thing that struck Mabel as truly, deeply, unapologetically weird, even now, thirty days into summer vacation in Gravity Falls, the town that it was, was that Dipper wasn't talking to her about what was going on. As he came of age, her family told her, that would happen. It would happen to both of them, they said; twins are their own best friends, even through to adulthood, but the bond would stretch with age. They would always be twins, but like all things in time, entropy would pull them apart.

Still, she didn't think now would be the time. Does anyone though?

Mabel sat at the breakfast table, woken early from dreamless sleep by songbirds and a nagging feeling. When she rolled over in her bed that morning, before she'd even opened her eyes, the girl had become certain the bed opposite hers would be empty. It was. She had sighed tiredly, pushed off her mattress tiredly, rubbed her eyes, dressed, went down the stairs, poured herself cereal and set to eating it with a grimace, tiredly. She'd been sleeping terribly for the past week, coinciding with a recent uptick in Dipper's truant behavior. And now she was exhausted, all from concern for her twin. Spoonful after spoonful of sugar cereal, dyed in all variety of "harmless" chemicals to appeal to the eyes of children half her age, went dashed into pieces into her stomach, but she ate only out of habit since her stomach was in knots. When the back door opened slowly, its motions deliberately handled to minimize motion and noise in the early hours, Mabel leaned into one hand as she propped her elbow up, wagging the spoon in her other hand.

"Six in morning, Dipping sauce." She muttered with some fake cheer. It didn't mask anything.

"Mabel!" Dipper half-shouted.

"What's up bro-bro?"

She dropped her spoon into the half-empty bowl, doing her best to be a clown and a comfort. And she spun herself around in her chair, for the same reason, facing her brother with a smile. Mabel patted on the seat of the chair next to her, inviting him to do what he hadn't been doing for a month.

"Mabel, uhm… I was just, uhh…"

She silently patted the seat again, but this time she wasn't smiling. Whatever excuse Dipper was trying to muster up, it was already doomed to heedlessness. Mabel's eyes pleaded with him as he stood staring at her from across the room, and for his part Dipper was rooted in place, an overnight bag hanging over his shoulder as he occasionally glanced at his sister, but mostly looked at the floor.

"Dipper, it's just a chair." Mabel offered in her most diplomatic tone. "If you're afraid something's gonna' bite you in the butt."

"Why would I be afraid of that?"

"I wouldn't know. You don't tell me much these days."

Maybe it was that he was tired, but that struck him wrong; Dipper's face contorted slightly as he went from zero to frustrated, and without another word he started walking fast to the other side of the kitchen. There was a snag on his shirt as he passed his sister, and though he turned back to look in annoyance, the pathetic sight of Mabel gently tugging on his wrinkled sleeve with her head tilted down made his heart sink.

"It's not fair." She said at length.

"What's not fair?"

"You aren't being fair."

He heard her sniffling, and she let go of his shirt so she could turn back to the table. Mabel pushed her bowl away from her as she plopped her arms down to cradle her forehead, her bulky striped blue sweater muffling the sound of crying. Man oh man, did that hurt. His bag he dropped to the floor, and his butt he parked in the chair she wanted him to sit in, though Dipper pulled it close enough to his weepy sister that he could put an arm around her shoulder. She seemed unwilling to reciprocate, but she didn't push him away; the sniffling remained, but wasn't full-on crying anymore.

"I just wanna' know that you're okay. That's fair, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's totally fair, Mabel."

"So," She said as she peeled her face from the wool of her sleeves, tears gluing skin to fabric for a moment. "Are you?"

He thought about that, and even though the answer was so simple he inwardly knew how much thought he had put into it.

"Yeah. I'm doing great actually."

"That's great, Dipper. What's going on that's so great?"

That was trickier. It wasn't that he didn't want to say, since for a while now the only thing he really wanted was a girlfriend, and for all intents and purposes he had one now. But he wasn't certain he should.

"Mabel, that's… mmm, that's harder to answer."

"Hard?" Mabel balked, losing her calm demeanor for a moment and choking back a few sobs. "What's so hard about it?"

"It's… gah, complicated."

He sighed and slouched in his seat, taking his arm from her shoulder so he could lean into his knees. His downcast eyes seemed an indicator of a great deal of internal conflict, and now it was Mabel's turn to feel bad. Wiping her tears and dribbling mucus away with her baggy sleeves, she took a deep breath and leaned in to hug and console her brother.

"It's okay, bro." She whispered. "I won't tell anyone that you suck butts and like it."

"Whoa, what?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna make up a bunch of stories about you."

Mabel leaned back enough that she could look Dipper in the eye. He was befuddled, that was plain to see, but her infectious grin wouldn't be stopped, and in moments Dipper found himself laughing, which made Mabel laugh as well.

"Hey." he began. "I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you."

"Or spending time with me."

"Or spending time with you. And I know that you wanna' know what's going on. But, I can't tell you yet. Or Stan or Soos or anyone, really. When I can though, I'll tell you everything."

"Everything, huh? Must be a big secret."

 _"_ _You have no idea."_ He thought as he pushed back from the table.

Mabel did the same, at first only to clear the table, but as he watched it seemed more and more like she was going to follow him upstairs. Like Dipper, she was looking to return to bed, get more rest, and try to start the day over in a few hours. They marched single file up the stairs, slogging their way along through the mire of sleepless nights. The attic lay before them both; Dipper stopped to look at the room again, taking in the sight of the dust-filled light that had just begun to creep in through the stained glass across from him. Mabel, in contrast, simply pushed past her brother and bee-lined to her bed, which she dropped down on face first.

Her brother shuffled to his own a moment after, audibly dropping his bag and his hat to the floor, sitting on the mattress and making the old floor creak beneath him. She watched through one eye as he pulled his shoes off, then his over shirt, leaving him bare chested. … Wait a moment.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah, Mabel?"

"Didn't you have an undershirt on last night?"

"O-oh." He hitched a moment. "no, I don't think so."

"You sure about that?" She opened her other eye as he crawled into bed. She could have sworn she saw marks on his back for a moment before the covers concealed his body.

"Yeah."

The tension that sprung from nowhere… how he hated it. He knew full well where that shirt was; Pacifica wore it as she got up from their bed last night, and had kept it as a memento. He thought it was cute and a little erotic at the time, since her breasts pulled it tight across her body and framed her rear perfectly. So perfectly in fact that he couldn't help himself and followed Pacifica so as to make love a third time that night. But now Dipper regretted leaving these breadcrumbs to be followed. Mabel, spaz that she might be, was the furthest thing from dumb.

"You promise you'll tell me everything Dipper?"

She looked half asleep now, eyes closed gently with a pillow pulled close under her chin.

"I promise, Mabel. I promise."

Dipper let his head hit the cushioning of his pillow, and his late nights and active days ran him down in an instant. Eyes drifting shut, he had only enough time to let his mind drift into remembrance of the night before. Luckily enough, his dreams would carry the memory too, just in case consciousness wasn't good enough.

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As he watched her hips, all he could think was how fantastic it felt; she had him pinned beneath her, and leaning back with her right arm reaching down to her hip where Dipper's hand held her tight while her left hand wiped her hair from her sweaty brow, Pacifica rose and fell onto his shaft again and again. A strange feeling of ecstasy ran through his flesh each time he watched Pacifica lift up, her perfect buttocks tensing in front of his eyes as her legs worked hard to raise her body, giving him a glimpse of his member just before it disappeared into her once more. Each time her hips dropped, each time their bodies collided, Pacifica would let out a sharp breath, a hiccup of pleasure that slipped from her throat as she pawed at her hair and gripped tight on his hand. Having had sex with this beautiful woman maybe fifty times now, Dipper knew she'd be close, and reverse cowgirl was one of her favorite positions since it turned out to be a surefire way for her to blow her own mind.

"D-d-dipper!" She cried out as her body started to spasm. Pacifica leaned forward, planting her hands on the bed spread between his knees and bucking her hips hard and fast. "Do it! Inside! I love it inside!"

Dipper held tight onto her hips, thrusting his own to meet her and forcing his cock deep as it would go. He found, through the days and nights, that she loved that too. His member grew more hot and swollen than before, a sensation that made her blood boil.

"Oh god! Dipper!"

She leaned forward until her face was pressed against the comforter as Dipper thrust up hard, pushing her forward a little as he emptied his load inside her. Pacifica came hard and vocally, gasping and ululating into the blanket to muffle her orgasmic sounds. When they came back down to earth, and when their breathing slowed, Pacifica pulled herself off her lover's softening manhood and crawled her way to a space next to him, laying her head of golden hair next to his messy mane on the same pillow he came to rest on. She was so close to him she swore she could hear his heartbeat, though that could just as easily have been her own. In situations where she couldn't tell, she romantically imagined there was no difference. … Huh, when did she start doing that, she wondered.

"Hah, yeah." She said with a sigh and a smile. "Good fuck, Pines. Good fuck.

"Huh, yeah, you know you do most of the work in that position, right?"

"S'what's so good about it." She replied sleepily. He couldn't see it, but she was positively aglow now.

They lay together entwined in each other's limbs for a while, and every now and then Dipper would glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, the sight of its bright red LED lights spelling out the time with those obnoxious little red dots. It was a little past midnight now, and last he remembered it was half past eleven. It might be his imagination, but it seems they were going at it for a full half-hour. He smiled at that, thinking about what this meant for his stamina.

Taking his eyes off the clock, Dipper scanned the room again; it was a darkly colored, minimalistic space, exactly what one would expect of a cheap motel on the side of the road. Thinking about the conditions of the room made him feel a bit dirty, since he thought that Pacifica deserved to make love in a much greater style than this. For her part, she was adamantly against doing it anywhere else. As such, they'd met at this motel for most of the evenings they spent their time together, and he was pretty sure they got this room almost every time.

When Pacifica stirred in his arms, Dipper pulled her closer, making her hum quietly in his ear. With how close she was to him, the humming tickled him. She woke from her brief sleep and kissed his neck.

"You awake?" She whispered.

"Yeah." He answered more faintly than she asked.

"Something bothering you?"

He didn't answer, not because he was afraid to, but because he knew it was silly to broach the subject again.

"Is it the room thing again?"

Dipper smiled and closed his eyes. She could read him like a book when she had him naked under her body.

"Yeah." He said with a mild tone. "But I didn't say anything 'cause—"

"'Cause you knew I'd say it's fine. You know it's fine, right?"

"I do. I do know it's fine."

Pacifica propped herself up on her elbow and reached for him. She pulled him into her lips for a brief kiss before shaking her fingers through his hair with a grin and a giggle.

"Then stop thinking about it." She started to crawl over his body. "Alright, move, Dip. I gotta' go."

Dragging herself from the warmth of the bed and his body, Pacifica found the air in the room stinging in its coolness. They had cranked the air conditioning as low as it would allow, the night being sticky and hot outside, and neither she nor Dipper had wanted that feeling to follow them into bed. Now, though, with sweat clinging to her naked body and sixty degree air swirling around her, that plan just outright sucked. She pulled on her panties but couldn't seem to find…

"Dipper, where's my shirt?"

"Why do you need your shirt?" He said with a smirk as he rolled over to stare at her as she pawed at the ground in the dark.

"It's fucking freezing, that's why."

He reached out to the lamp on the nightstand, a quick click of the cheap fixture bathing the room in a pale yellow light and illuminating Pacifica as she scratched at the floor for her clothing. It was revealed that none of the rest of her clothes was on this side of the bed, but Dipper's undershirt was close at hand. This, she decided, would have to make do. Dipper decided much the same as he watched her lift the garment into the air, exposing her breasts to his eyes before pulling the shirt down over her head and tight across her torso. He instantly fell in love with the way she wore his shirt, and how it terminated just at her waist, leaving her hips and all that lay below them exposed.

"Turn up the temperature, okay?" She said more than she asked as she made her way to the bathroom.

He watched her leave, staying in bed for a while before getting up to do as she asked; it was actually pretty brisk in there, he finally thought. The old springs of the box frame creaked as he shifted his weight and planted his feet on the dusty discount carpet, its evergreen color looking sicklier in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He stared at the draped window absentmindedly as he approached the air conditioner, the dirty beige plastic of its frame vibrating solemnly as the machine choked out another gust of cold air. It made Dipper shiver as he stopped in front of it, and with great effort he managed to adjust the setting a whole twelve degrees. Even though it now read seventy-two, though, the dilapidated ventilator seemed eager to keep pumping wind at its previous setting. Only after a few minutes of continued struggle did the young man finally change the accursed thing's mind, and this was done by frustratingly unplugging the machine for a few seconds.

Once he had the air conditioner acting as he wanted, Dipper stood with one last chill running the length of his body and turned back to face the bed. He saw Pacifica leaned over the sink, staring in the vanity mirror intently and picking at one thing or another. Her posture made him think lewd things about her; he loved the look of her ass jutting out in front of him, wiggling back and forth subconsciously as she browsed her facial features for annoyances. Finding his flesh erect and his blood boiling again, Dipper quietly crossed the gap to her, stopping just behind Pacifica.

"Dipper?" She asked when she finally saw him in the mirror behind her. The sight gave her a little start. "Finally get the air fixed?"

He ran his hands up and down her sides, nodding and humming in affirmation as she stay leaned forward in front of him. Having her warm body right in front of him left Dipper rock hard, but it wasn't until Pacifica stood up straight and backed up into him that she noticed his member standing ready for her. It arched down and slipped between her legs, making her gasp in surprise.

"W-whoa, hey there!"

He ran his hands up and down her body until with a firm tug she was fully against him, his chest fitting perfectly with her back. Dipper reached between her arms and drew her shirt up to expose her breasts in the mirror, which made her smile and roll her eyes.

"Feeling wound up already, huh? You know I'm not just a piece of meat, right? I'm—mmm, gently now…"

She was interrupted by the feel of his hands on her breasts, fondling them firmly in his confident grip as he suckled on her exposed collarbone. With lustful ambition barely tempered by a small amount of patience, Dipper flicked his thumbs over her nipples, switching from suckling to nibbling and from her collarbone to her ear. Pacifica, moaning softly, pushed her hips back, rubbing her warming nether regions against the rod situated conveniently next to them. Without thinking about it, she reached a hand between her legs and gently squeezed his head; he groaned into her ear and thrust forward, forcing his cock into view in the mirror.

"Pacifica… can we please? Right here?"

She groaned in answer, breaking his grip to lean forward and pull at the hem of her underwear, letting them fall to the floor around her ankles as she presented her pert back end for her lover. Dipper ran his hands over her smooth skin before guiding his aching, throbbing cock to her waiting entrance. Pacifica stood waiting, shuddering as she bit her lip and closed her eyes, sighing excitedly when she felt his flesh meet hers, parting it, running smoothly into her soaked, overheated insides. Each time she felt him move, every thrust she felt she also felt make her breasts dance about as they hung in space.

 _"_ _That sounds so hot."_ She thought. _"I bet it looks so hot… Oh, wait!"_

She remembered the mirror, and opening her eyes felt like the best decision in the world as Pacifica took in the sight reflected there: Dipper's face twisted in delight as he bucked his hips into her own, her face as she blushed and moaned from the attention, the sight of her fleshy globes swaying almost violently. This, she thought, was all there ever needed to be.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

His eyes shot open as he took a sharp breath, and he immediately remembered where he was. The attic was somewhat blurry as he scanned the room, a slowly brightening space that was also getting uncomfortably warm as the day progressed. Wondering what time it was, Dipper rolled to his back and glanced at his wrist; the watch was gone again though this time Dipper only sighed and threw the covers from his bed. He knew he left his watch in his backpack, and after some convincing managed to get from his spot and walk to where he cast his bag to the floor. The watch, which he fished from a deep pocket, told him that he had lost more time than he thought: it was half past two already.

"Yeesh, no wonder it's so hot…" He said with a sigh as he donned the time piece. "Mabel, hey, time to wake up."

But she wasn't there. She'd already got up and left, apparently, leaving Dipper to snooze into the afternoon. Nice. He wondered when she had awoken, and if she had thought of waking him or leaving him there. And when he thought about it he realized that Stan would probably be pissed off about this. Not so much Dipper sleeping in late, but his behavior the past month leading up to and finishing with today. If Mabel was upset, Stan probably didn't much like it either.

"It'll be fine." Dipper whispered as he dressed himself. "It's summer vacation. Stan will be cool… Yeah."

Dipper smoothed down his hair before pulling his hat over the mass of unwieldy locks, taking an extra moment to straighten his clothes and make sure everything was in order. Glancing in the mirror hanging on the wall, he decided that this was… about as good as it was going to get, actually.

"Fine… It's cool. It's cool."

Downstairs he found the house empty, fans blowing in air through all the open windows on the shady side of the house being the only sound he could hear. No Mabel, no Stan… they didn't go somewhere, did they? In the kitchen, Dipper found only sunshine and another open window; it felt especially hot in here, but nothing was different. Wait, no. There it was, pinned to the refrigerator. Dipper found a note there, the bright yellow writing paper contrasting starkly with the faded dark paint of the long obsolete ice box. It was clearly meant for him, since it had his name spelled out and underlined in big red letters.

 _"_ _Dipper,_

 _It's crazy hot today, and no suckers showed so we're going to the pool. Of course by we, I mean everyone except you! You missed work, so you get triple chores. You can sweep the place inside and out, vacuum the rugs, and clean the gutters. Whatever order you want, I'm not picky. Ladder's outside._

 _-Stan_

 _P.S. - Mabel told me something about you suckin' butts. I'll have to talk some sense into you about that later, creep."_

He wadded up the note with a frown and a growl, not cursing Stan so much as himself, and maybe Mabel for leaving him in bed when she clearly got up. Fine, whatever; he started with the sweeping, since in his mind gathering all the dust to the carpet before vacuuming made sense. The theory only worked in a universe without wind, and Dipper found the fans proved vexing in this regard. No sooner had he gathered up a sizeable pile of dust at the carpet's edge did the swiveling rotary fan pivot in his direction, scattering the mess once more.

"What? Nuhuh." Dipper said as he tossed the broom to the floor.

In his frustration he went room to room, unplugging every fan he could find, ten in all, before he resumed sweeping. This proved foolhardy as well, though, as the already hot shack got ten degrees warmer in half as many minutes. And the sweat on his brow, dripping down into his eyes, made it all just unbearable.

"This is ridiculous! Grah…! Huh, okay, calm down man. Just… just muscle through."

And so he did. Once the sweeping and vacuuming were finished, Dipper made another pass through the house to return air circulation to the rooms that desperately needed it. Namely, all of them. But that did little to cool his head, and knowing full well he was headed to the roof Dipper washed his face and neck with a washcloth that, despite being dampened with lukewarm water, proved much more satisfying than the air being blown in from outside. Seriously, it felt just as hot as if one were standing in the sun.

He changed his mind about that five minutes into his gutter duty. It was infinitely worse on that ladder, scooping pine needles and ooze and the occasional mouse skeleton from the rain catches and shingles. Those skeletons made him grimace anytime he plucked one from the tarry slop; clearly this was the work of an owl, but it was still gross, and Dipper never felt clean touching them even though he had thick rubber gloves on.

"This is disgusting, Stan. Seriously, did you just save up this gutter crap all year for me?" He grumbled as he pulled the taught, heavy garden hose from its resting place on the ladder, spraying down the gutter to clear the thin layer of slime that remained in the space he just finished.

It bubbled and frothed, filling the already stagnant air with the scent of the rotting vegetable matter. In the thick summer heat, it struck Dipper hard and plunged his stomach into nauseous tumult. Choking on an acidic burp, he dropped the hose to the ground, cursing himself out the second the nozzle slipped from his fingers.

"Seriously?! Ugh! Stupid!"

"Yeah, you kinda' are."

"Huh? Pacifica?"

She stood below, staring up at him while Dipper turned his head as far around as it would go to scan the area, spotting her just a few feet away from the ladder. Her teal t-shirt and white mini-skirt looked starkly comfortable in the hundred degree weather compared to his dirty, dark jeans and grey work shirt.

"Look at you up there." She said with a smirk. "Sweaty working man. Betcha' never thought you'd end up living the life you got now, huh Pines?"

He started descending the ladder mid-sentence, pausing to look back at her again with a curious look. She looked a little shaky; was he imagining that, or was something troubling her?

"What life is that exactly?" He posed curiously.

"Why, the life of being the hot handyman who sleeps with the debutant, Pines." Pacifica answered as she smiled and plucked off her designer sunglasses. "Did you ever expect that?"

"Can't say I did, no."

Safely on the ground, Dipper pulled one slime-smothered glove off after the other, hanging them over the rungs of the ladder. He freed his head from his hat to wipe the sweat from his freckled brow, not noticing Pacifica staring at him as he did.

"What're you doing here, Pacifica? It's a long way from town, especially since it's so hot."

"Well, to tell the truth," she said as she glanced at the ground, "I tried to book another night at the motel. My cards were declined."

"Your parents cut you off?"

"Looks like it. So we can't really spend our nights fucking there anymore."

It stunned him even now how freely she said that word in front of him these days. Even when they were younger and at each other's throats, Dipper never imagined Pacifica would drop f-bombs like they were going out of style. He chalked it up to rebelliousness, but there was another thing that concerned him.

"Pacifica," He said calmly. "Where will you stay at all if you don't have your credit cards?"

"I didn't want to think about that. Not really." She turned and looked back down the road she came. "They cut me off so I'd come home. Think I should go?"

"I, well… not really, I guess."

"Don't have much choice, do I?"

He didn't have an answer to that; he actually always worried that this moment would eventually come. Pacifica never wanted to talk about it, but Dipper was sure that the Northwests would shut down their daughter's expenses when they grew tired of her spending their money just to avoid them. That it took a month said a lot about them. The silence grew intolerable, so he broke it.

"Come inside. Cool off for a few minutes first."

The kitchen was enough cooler that it didn't seem so unpleasant to just sit and relax at the table. Plopping a pair of Pitt sodas on the worn wood, Dipper and Pacifica sat and stared at the wall for a few minutes, neither looking away from whatever it was they were imagining.

"If I go home." She said at long last. "They'll want to know what I've been doing. I'll have to tell them I've been seeing someone… that I've been seeing you."

"Yeah." Dipper nearly whispered. "I guess you would."

"I'm so stupid, Dipper…" Pacifica said with a hitch in her throat that suggested she was close to crying. "I shouldn't have done any of this."

"You're not stupid, Pacifica…"

"I am though."

She ran her hands through her hair, grimacing and weeping softly as she thought about all the crap that was headed her way. She felt worse now than she had a month ago, thinking about how her family was going to rip her apart and keep her from this new happiness just like they did all the other good things in her past. All Pacifica wanted to do now was cry again. When she felt his hand take hers and hold it tight, her eyes opened and she gripped him back.

"You aren't stupid, Pacifica." He said as he looked into her watering eyes. "And I'm… I'm not just saying that because you lay on top of me naked."

He looked so awkward talking about their love life that it made Pacifica smile and laugh a little, then more as he quietly laughed too. When she stopped, she noticed he was still holding her hand and still smiling as he looked into her eyes. Altogether, it made her feel like no matter what, it would be fine.

"Come on, Pacifica." He said with a tug of her hand, pulling her to her feet. "This whole pity thing isn't working for you. Let's go for a walk."


	4. Secret and Pines - 2 (NSFW)

**NSFW warning.**

* * *

· · ·

Her watch, bobbing on her unsteady arm, read 3:15 already, the cartoonish faces of the rabbits that were the tips of the hands only momentarily distracting Mabel from feeling a bit callous. She didn't really want to leave Dipper alone in the house like that, nor did she want to leave him to the dog pile of hard work that waited for him. Although… it was amusing to a degree, at first. But she recalled the brisk dowsing feeling of plunging feet first into water more than thirty degrees cooler than the air, and the hot and cold feel of the atmosphere meeting her soaked skin when she breached the pool's surface. In that exact moment, she felt a little regret.

That's why she left the pool early, even though it was fun and appealed to the small part of her that was wanton and hedonistic, even though it was a long walk home, and even though there was one guy there that looked cute enough to flirt with for the afternoon, just for the heck of it. In the end, it wasn't Dipper's fault, she told herself. Sure, he was out all night, probably, which was his choice and he was a jerk for not inviting her for whatever crazy nonsense he was getting into.

"Okay," she uttered plainly as she marched down the gravel road in an obnoxiously pink swimsuit. "Mabel, time for some apology practice. Dipper, I'm sorry."

She stopped in the road, shaking her head disappointedly as if someone was just falling short of her every expectation. Oh wait, someone was: her.

"That's really insincere, Mabel. You could've poked him with a stick, at least. Try again."

"I know, brain, lemme get it right! Hm… Dipper, I'm sorry."

"That was pretty good… roll with that, keep at it girl!"

"Okay," Mabel answered herself with a small smile, continuing her walk.

Every few steps, Mabel would reiterate her apology, trying to get that exactly perfect note of sympathy. Sometimes she'd miss the mark, have to pause to re-psyche herself up a moment, then resume her afternoon stroll.

She passed the time and distance much in this way from as far back as town, letting her ignore the sun overhead and the occasional rock caught between her flip-flop and her foot. All it ever took for Mabel to keep on keepin' on was a little devil-may-care, a dash of never-say-never, and the ability to completely shrug off the slings and arrows of reality. And her brother, who she was subconsciously martyring herself in this heat to see. And see him she did, just as she was approaching the Mystery Shack, just as he was leaving through the back door, just as he was guiding someone who looked like some sort of all-grown-up Pacifica Northwest by the hand towards the woods.

"Wait, what?!"

"I'm sorry for crying…"

"Don't be, just look around and stuff."

The treetops shifted lazily in the breezes as they would grace Dipper and Pacifica with their southbound presence, a collage of pine trees here and there perforated by a grove of aspens. The sunshine lit the leaves up at every angle, an aesthetic phenomenon that they both found they liked. Dipper thought she might like this part of the woods, since it was one of the few places that had these trees.

"You know," He said softly. "I did some reading, and it turns out there aren't that many aspen trees in Oregon."

"What? That sounds made up. You're making this up."

"No, it's true. Some places they're everywhere, but not Oregon."

"That's kinda' weird."

"Not really, when you read about why…"

"No, you're right, I bet the aspen thing makes sense." She answered somewhat rhetorically. "It's weird, though, that you read about that."

"Huh, well, you said you liked aspen trees." He gripped her hand a little tighter as he explained himself. "So I educated myself."

"Hah, no. I said I liked Aspen. But… it's cute that you think about it like that."

Pacifica rubbed one puffy eye after the other, annoyed with herself that she was still weepy about this whole thing. It was one thing when the wound was fresh, but she had felt like she'd come so far in a month's time.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Pacifica muttered. "Just… it's all so dumb. I don't know why I freaked out."

"Well, they shut off your money." Dipper reasoned, somewhat inconsiderately.

"Just my credit cards. Probably my main account too, so that's useless, but last year I set some money aside from my junior investment seminar fund and put it in some certificates of deposit without my mom or dad knowing."

"That's kinda' devious." He said through a smirk.

"Not compared to what they do with their money, believe me. At any rate, it makes good business sense now, doesn't it?"

She kicked a rock into the underbrush, causing a squirrel already unsure about the world to abandon all hope of enjoying a pine cone it had carefully rolled away from a tree trunk. Pacifica watched it scramble up and around a thin little aspen tree, frenetically crawl out onto a branch, and leap to another tree no more than four feet from where it began.

"Squirrels are dumb."

"Well, that's probably a defense mechanism. You know, run around like crazy, keep the predators guessing… what?"

"You're such a nerd." She said with a laugh. But then she sighed. "But you know what? You're my nerd."

He stopped in place when she while she strolled on; her little comment made his heart skip a beat and a grin dominate his face, and Dipper jogged to catch up with her, sneaking his fingers back into place with Pacifica's and squeezing tight. She smiled as they shared a look, and sighed as they approached a narrow glade.

"Know what, Dip?" Pacifica opened as they stepped into the small clearing with an old oak tree dominating one corner. "You were right. I already feel a lot better out here. Not so claustrophobic."

"I'm glad. You know, Pacifica, I just wanted—"

Dipper was interrupted, happily, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her waiting lips, a gentle and smooth kiss ending with the slightest tug of his lower lip by her teeth. He smiled and kissed her back, pulling her close by the small of her back; when their moving and jostling skulls knocked loose Dipper's hat, Pacifica broke the kiss a moment to giggle.

"Mmm, you're too cute for your own good." She said before nuzzling his neck, her breath tickling his skin. "You know, before I found out the bad news, I had a fun idea for you and me later."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." She took to nibbling on his neck while guiding his hand by the wrist to the waist of her skirt, then down a pleat to the skirt's hem, then to bare thigh. She changed direction then, tugging his hand up, up, up, and pressing his palm against the bare flesh hidden by her short white skirt.

"O-oh! Oh man… Pacifica, are you…? Are you not wearing anything?"

"Well." She admitted with a chuckle. "Almost. I'll let you see in a minute. For now you can- mmm, good boy."

Not needing her go ahead, Dipper's curiosity turned to initiative as one hand, then another, squeezed on her buttocks, pulling them softly upward and releasing them just as carefully. Pacifica rewarded his explorations by grinding against his frame, pressing her hips and breasts against him, and parting his lips with her tongue. She moaned softly into his mouth as he kneaded her backside with increasing greed and excitement.

Neither Dipper nor Pacifica saw the forest for the trees; huddled in a bush nearby biting her knuckles to keep her cool, to not scream in blaring disbelief and shuddering rambunctious joy, Mabel watched her brother and dared not draw breath. And he was with Pacifica. And she was so forward! At the angle they stood, relative to her anyway, Mabel couldn't see the absence of fabric Dipper was feeling, imagining that he was fondling her through panties. That alone was an exciting prospect, but Mabel was also trapped in the life and death struggle of bottling up an outburst as she thought about the two of them sneaking off and meeting like this all those times Dipper had vanished. No wonder he didn't know how to tell her! This was like that Shakespeare story about the teenagers where everyone dies!

"Oh my gosh! Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, Dipper! Oh my gosh!" She inwardly screamed as she stared wide-eyed through a small gap in the shrub's branches. "You are so freaking cute together, oh my gosh!"

When their kiss broke, Mabel could see Pacifica's red, panting face; the way her hands roamed Dipper's back and her body shifted, it was plain as day the blonde girl was at wit's end. But what happened next made Mabel's jaw drop. In a split second, Pacifica dropped to her knees in front of her brother, expertly undoing his belt and button and pulling his pants down in no time flat. And there it was, Dipper's cock, in all its glory and in Pacifica's fast moving hands. Her tongue flicked across the tip a few times as she jerked happily on the appendage, making Dipper breath sharply as his hands found their way to either side of Pacifica's head. Her eyes darted up a moment, and with a moan she opened her mouth wide and nearly swallowed Dipper's entire member.

"O-oh god, Pacifica…!"

 _"_ _Oh wow… Pacifica."_ Mabel thought as she watched obsessively. _"That's… wow…"_

The sight of Pacifica's head smoothly rocking in front of Dipper's hips and the sound of her brother breathing and gasping as whatever amazing things he felt boiled his blood… Mabel took to nibbling her hair and hugging her knees tight to her chest as she rolled slightly on her sandaled feet. All those books she filched, borrowed, secretly bought and read in the quiet moments of the night were nothing compared to this. And even though it was her brother that she was watching, it made Mabel feel like she was on fire… Maybe it was that it was her brother…

"Mmm, okay Dipper." Pacifica said with a gasp, working a single hand up and down his slick, shiny member, looking into his eyes before rising and shakily walking to the closest tree. She leaned forward against it, Dipper and Mabel looking on with hungry eyes as second by second Pacifica's fingers delicately reached back and gingerly gripped her mini-skirt by the hemline. She bit her lip as her digits slowly raised the curtain on her smooth, firm backside. The twins gasped silently…

"Is that…?"

"Oh my god." Dipper sighed, slowly approaching Pacifica, his hard cock somehow feeling even harder. "Is that a thong?"

Wiggling her hips, Pacifica only silently nodded, focusing all her effort on hugging the tree tight to keep her shuddering frame on her feet. Her body was burning top to bottom, and each step Dipper took toward her gave her cause to bite her lip and stifle her anticipatory moans. When at last he was directly behind her, Pacifica looked down at his rock hard member; it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, twitching with a red yearning that she desperately wanted to feel in her own body. His hands found their way back to her ass cheeks, pushing and pulling on them, intently tugging on the edges of her labia with his thumbs so he could watch the thong's smooth, silk string sink into her opening. Pacifica gratefully moaned and dug her perfectly manicured nails into the tree bark.

"Dipper!" She whined as her hips thrust back, barely nudging his glans. "Just-! Just-!"

"Just do it already!" Mabel screamed without screaming, not noticing her hand had wandered to the hot, wet space between her legs, her forefinger already eagerly working through her swimsuit.

Rubbing the still slick surface of his cock head against her velvety nether lips, Dipper tugged gently at the string that "barred" his way, and with a slow and painfully teasing lean forward started parting her most lovely flesh. They groaned in unison, Pacifica hugging the smooth aspen that supported her, Dipper clutching her hips, and Mabel as she pulled aside the bottom of her suit and timidly probed her own vagina as she watched in blind delight.

"Ooooh jeez." Mabel bit her lip hard as her thoughts ran wild, stifling an audible gasp as two fingers sank down to her second knuckle in one smooth flick of the wrist. "Oh boy, those two pervs got me goin'..."

Her eyes were glued shut while Mabel shuddered and fingered herself, opening them again when she heard the distinctive slap of skin on skin to take in the sight of Dipper rhythmically thrusting hard and fast. The lovers stood at an angle that allowed Mabel full view of Dipper's manhood, glistening with Pacifica's heated essence, each time it withdrew from Pacifica's pussy. And every now and then, when Dipper pulled a little too hard, the head would pop back out, making him shudder violently for a moment before he pushed the twitching thing back inside. Pacifica would nearly lose her footing whenever that happened.

"Oh my god… oh my god, Dipper. Keep your cock in her…"

Mabel shocked herself a little when she thought that word. And of course, she thought it each time she saw his swollen appendage emerge, and every time she saw it she would twist her fingers so that her knuckles flexed and jostled her swollen clit, physically shocking her with each instance she mentally said cock. So excited had she become, Mabel stifled herself by firmly pressing her free hand over her mouth; thankfully Pacifica's own mewls of delight covered the rest of their voyeur's din.

Dipper had taken to a swifter pace now, driving his member deep inside with strong thrusts that Mabel thought might hurt, but Pacifica seemed thrilled to receive. Her mouth hung open with her tongue lolling free, the girl sharply gasped each time Dipper's hips crashed into her backside.

"P-pacifica, I d-don't think I can last m-much longer." Dipper shouted through gritted teeth.

"Oh god, Dipper." Mabel whispered through her tightly clutching fingers. She fell onto her knees as her body began to spasm, her busy fingers grinding into her as far as they could, thwarted only by the rest of her hand.

Pacifica, hardly able to think and certainly unable to speak, merely had to turn her head and look back at her stuttering lover. He looked at her eyes, glassy and nearly rolled up into her head, her cheeks, painted the brightest red he could imagine, and her open mouth as saliva began to seep past her lip and tongue. In an instant, Dipper lost his mind, any thought obliterated, any feeling smothered and overrun by lust and a burst of light in his brain as his head tilted back in time with one final crashing thrust that pushed Pacifica hard into the tree. She wrapped her arms around it, clutching tight as Dipper ground his body into hers; she spasmed around his cock, her body shuddering and perforating her long, climactic moan with the pleasurable waves that overwhelmed her sinews and senses all at once.

In the bush, biting her hand to hide her own screaming orgasm as she lunged forward, Mabel fucked her own hand as hungrily as she would if her perfect man were just beneath her body and driving her knees into the dirt. In between bursts of ecstasy, Mabel twisted her fingers again and again, dragging out the orgasm as she imagined in vivid, lewd detail how good Pacifica must feel right now. When she finally calmed down enough to open her eyes again, Mabel's joy became a dull shock.

"Oh god… Sweet Belgian waffles, please don't let them know I just did that!"

She looked through the leaf cover again, seeing with great comfort that neither of the lovers had noticed anything, being instead content with tiredly grinding their spent bodies together at the hips while they began to cool down. Dipper and Pacifica slumped together where they stood, looking like two overheated machines letting off all their steam and running down their worn out, pent up springs. Dipper was the first to move in a real way, tenderly pulling himself free from Pacifica's whitewashed entrance with a low, slick pop. He was half-hard and coated in their mixed juices; when Pacifica lackadaisically lurched down and took the spent thing into her mouth again, Mabel nearly leapt from the bush in disbelief, but she seemed only to be cleaning the mutual mess in the way she knew Dipper liked best.

Dipper fixed his belt into place before dropping down against the sturdy aspen, still panting from their hasty rut, inviting Pacifica to join him by reaching out with his hand. She knelt to the ground and crawled into his embrace, face still numb from the loss of sensation that came when she did. Still though, she gratefully snuggled with him where they made love, a sight that made Mabel's heart melt. And she eagerly listened when Pacifica spoke.

"Dipper, I think… I don't know what I would do without you now."

"What do you mean?" He asked casually.

 _"_ _Oh my god."_ Mabel's thoughts blared in her mind. _"Don't mess this up!"_

"I mean… Dipper, I think I…"

Perhaps at last catching her drift, perhaps just thinking he knew what she was going to say and acting on his own feelings, Dipper tilted his head and gently took her by the chin, pressing his lips to hers.

"I… think I love you, Dipper Pines."

"I think I love you too, Pacifica Northwest."

"Oh my god! Yes!"

"But." She whispered as her head took to resting on his shoulder. "What do we do? You're only here for the summer, and then what?"

"What if…?"

Mabel leaned forward, excited and scared about what might happen next. She had thought about this relentlessly for years now, wondering who in the great green world might be even a remotely good fit for her brother. Now that he found someone, what would he do next?

"Pacifica…" He took her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. "I think… I want to be with you for the summer. And then the fall. And then all the way to next summer. Pacifica… what if I made Gravity Falls my new home?"

"What?" Pacifica gasped and sat up straight. "You would do that…?"

"Would you, bro-bro?" Mabel asked as her eyes watered, from shock or joy she couldn't tell.

Dipper smiled and kissed her again before answering.

"For you, to be with you, I would. No matter where."

Pacifica smiled, and with a chuckle and fighting back overwhelming waves of tears Pacifica lunged forward and clutched him tight in her arms. Dipper held her there, eyes closed, lips curled in satisfaction of the deepest sort. Mabel wiped her own tears from her eyes as she crawled away from the scene. When she was comfortable with the distance between them, she stood and began to walk. Her whole body felt numb, every cell struck simultaneously by that bolt of lightning, but she could feel she was smiling.

"For you, to be with you, I would. No matter where."

"Dipper, you big softy." Mabel said with a laugh and a sniffle, playing the words back again and again in her fevered mind. "You could've told me that's what was so important!"

Everything was so clear now; everything he did was in perfect perspective, and in knowing this, Mabel found herself cheerful again. Every bird that sang overhead helped her lift her head high. Yes sire, everything was right in the world. Well, almost everything… Mabel's jaunty stroll home was halted immediately as a thought blitzed through her brain, followed quickly by another.

"Wait…" She said out loud in disbelief. "Did I seriously get off watching my own brother? Eww. Eww! Wait, wait, wait! Did he really get to home plate before me?!"


	5. Sea of Time - 1 (NSFW)

**NSFW warning.**

* * *

· · ·

There was no sound besides the rain beating against the window, though to him his quiet, ragged breathing roared like a hurricane, dominating his every thought except the one that perched mercilessly in front of him. On the table in front of him sat the means of escape from this room, this world that he was trapped by, wriggling to death now that hope had been dashed. Dipper reached for it, not sure if he was thinking straight or really at all as his fingers brushed the handle of the gun where it sat.

"This can't be the only way, can it?" Dipper asked as he looked it over.

"It's not. That's why I gave you two options, kiddo."

"But, that's not really an option." he muttered painfully as his fingers gripped the handle tight. He lifted the gun in his hand, thinking it felt much, much heavier than he remembered.

The memory erasure device… how strange that it and Dipper should be reunited in this circumstance. Maybe Fiddleford was right to make something like this, just for these occasions. Shifting the eraser so it rested in both hands, Dipper weighed both choices much as he weighed the gun. Even though he trembled terribly, he still gripped it surely, though again the weight of the thing seemed wrong. And he seemed… it felt as though he were just running in the rain, though he was sure he hadn't been. Dipper glanced out the window, where the downpour carried on apathetically.

"This all seems wrong. How can this be the way?"

"Free will is a nasty thing sometimes, Dippingsauce. This is how you deal with it."

The dial on the gun shifted suddenly, rocking the machine in his grip as it wobbled left and right and spelled out one letter after another the words he wished to forget forever. It happened so fast… P; A; C… I-F-C-A. And without so much as a moment wasted, the second word: NORTHWEST.

They glowed menacingly in a faint blue light, and Dipper was even less sure than before that this was the right way. Maybe this was cowardice, what he was doing? Could he call himself a man if he didn't just swallow the pain and carry on? Sure, the first love felt like the only one that ever mattered, but was it really…? But could he call himself a man if this is what left him too broken to ever be right again? The pain felt that heavy a burden on his mind.

It was simple, really, what the right choice was. He didn't touch the dial even once after it seemingly moved of its own accord, deciding his fate without half a thought. All Dipper did was the heavy lifting, raising the memory eraser to his temple, breathing hard and fast as faint tears began to trail down his cheeks. The gun rattled in his hand, but it wouldn't matter soon. As he pulled the trigger, he thought one last time about Pacifica. Yes. He loved her. He did.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

They sat opposite each other, regarding one another across the kitchen table with stern looks, neither sure if they or the other were right. The silence was dreadful and deep following the first volley of conversation, a drawn out selection of near-cliche questions and unsound answers. In the end, Stan and Dipper sat staring at each other because they didn't know what else to talk about on the matter.

After their tryst in the woods, Dipper and Pacifica decided that the next logical thing to do following her stint at the motel was see if his family would take her in for a while, and it was a hard conclusion for them to mutually arrive at. For her part, Pacifica didn't want to do it, simply because she was afraid of making the situation more and more complicated when she already had had her fill of complications, and he did his best to reason her through that fear. It was the first time they'd had an argument the whole month, or at least any disagreement that could qualify as such.

When they had reached the Mystery Shack, they found that they were not there alone, Mabel sitting eagerly on the old wooden steps with one leg propped over the other, her foot bouncing excitedly as she waited. Her grin was impossible in its scope, stretching further across her face than Dipper could ever remember seeing it. Which was strange, since just that morning she was practically in tears. Although, as Dipper dissected the situation in his mind, it all became clear very quickly; he paled instantly, especially so when he realized that Mabel was smiling even wider if possible when she tilted her head and glanced ever-so-casually at Dipper and Pacifica's still clasped hands. It was only about midway into their explanation that Stan's beat up car made the scene, the grimacing old man bringing the affable Soos in tow.

"So." Stan finally said, nearly jolting Dipper as he sat expecting the silence to draw ever on. "What's your plan for all this?"

"Wha…?"

"Yeah, no, what's your plan?"

"Well," Dipper answered quietly, scratching the anxious itch behind his ear, then the other on his thigh. "I was kinda' hoping I could ask the hugest favor I've ever asked… I mean, I know it's kinda…"

"Stupid."

Dipper bit his lip to hide the sting he felt. Yeah, it was a short-sighted idea, he knew that. But he was hoping… he didn't know what for, actually. It was complicated after all, no matter how often Dipper had told himself and Pacifica that it wouldn't be, in the end. He didn't respond, though, even as Stan sat glowering at him, wanting to hear the boy explain himself better. Dipper had the burning desire to get up and leave, just to slip out from under the burning glare of his great uncle's perpetual frown.

"It is stupid," Dipper admitted. "But it would be more stupid to do the opposite."

"Oh come on, kid. It's not like we're talking about some orphan here. Pacifica Northwest. She can go home."

"She can't though." He whispered, maybe because he was losing faith in the idea. In truth, Dipper had left out some of the more toxic elements of Pacifica's background, because he felt that people didn't really need to hear about that. Not from him, anyway.

"Ugh, Dipper—!"

"Grunkle Stan… I want to know if Pacifica can stay here. For a little while, until things work out." He looked Stan in the eye now, just barely trembling from nervousness while he spoke. "I just want to know, first. Can she?"

There was a pause again, though this time it was Stan's turn to sit in anxious doubt, stare across the table, and ponder his position. He had a whole world of problems with this… besides a lean tourist season, and thus the corresponding budget, Stan Pines did not really want to get involved with the Northwest's over their daughter. Lord would there be a world of trouble if Preston and his goon lawyers decided to drop any kind of hammer on them. And to be frank, he still disliked the girl. But Dipper… the kid couldn't lie for beans. There was something he didn't want to talk about, that much was clear, and what's more the boy was doing everything except address it. With a tired sigh, Stan pulled his glasses from their resting place and pressed his hand to his eyes. A headache was already creeping into his skull as it was, and now all this mess …

"Kid, you really gotta' stop surprisin' me. I thought your sister was bad, but you're turnin' into quite the troublemaker yourself. Heh, guess we are related after all."

"That joke's older than you are." Dipper said with a weak chuckle. He found this turn of events to his liking, a good omen in an otherwise bleak stretch.

"Yeah. Look," Stan started as he slid his glasses back over his ears. "I'll talk straight with you about this…"

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

Their conversation carried on unheard as Pacifica and Mabel sat opposite each other in the attic, the former planted anxiously on Dipper's bed while his twin sat on her own. Mabel sat cross legged with a nervous smile making an occasional appearance, though even she didn't know what to say while they waited for the conclusion of the man-to-man talk going on below their feet. Maybe the hardest thing was sitting there, staring at Pacifica and remembering everything that she saw; the idea of hiding and watching Dipper and Pacifica throwing themselves into each other in the wild where anyone could just wander by and enjoy a show simply made Mabel flush. Anytime she recalled what she witnessed just an hour or so ago, her body would start smoldering and she'd knit her fingers together, hook her hands over her knee, and stare off at a corner of the room humming until the feeling would leave.

Pacifica herself was also at a loss. The attic unnerved her, a little; it was old, dank, musty, and altogether lacking in color. She had come to accept the equally uninspiring motel room, but this was a departure from that as much as the motel was from Northwest Manor. It wasn't that she disliked the attic so much as she didn't like it yet. She knew she'd overcome that if she had to. Beyond that, though, it was strange that Mabel was just sitting there when Pacifica knew full well what Mabel was really like. She was effervescent at all times, and that was only a surface-level understanding. The silence was thusly startling, making Pacifica very, very nervous. And then, every once in a little while, Pacifica would catch Mabel looking at her with foggy eyes and a faint blush, and then her body language would change so drastically you wouldn't know who you were with. What in the world was she thinking about every time she started staring and blushing? And then it hit her much as it did Dipper, who she remembered getting very quiet but not having the chance to explain.

"Oh no…" Pacifica said as she covered her eyes. "You saw us, didn't you."

"Uh, y-yeah." Mabel answered, glancing up and away again. "I saw you two come back from your walk."

"That's not what I meant… you saw us before that. Didn't you."

Mabel froze, not even twitching her toes as she stared at a rafter and turned beat red, a shade Pacifica matched as she searched the floor in a mild panic. That made this awkward, and she wondered if Dipper knew or if he only just suspected.

"Oh my god… I can't believe this!" she exclaimed as she ran both hands through her hair. "You-! You didn't see everything, did you!?"

"Uhh… I dunno?"

"You dunno? What does that mean, you dunno? What—? Ugh, you watched us start to finish, didn't you!?"

"Um… Kinda'?"

Pacifica growled as she buried her face in her hands, burning alive from the embarrassment. All the while she scratched at her head, questioning herself on how she could be so stupid, Mabel only chewed on her hair and drew her legs tight in front her. She felt a little bad, actually, seeing Pacifica writhe.

"You know… bleh bleh." Mabel began before spitting her tangled, pool-water hair out with a raspberry. "Bleh, you know… you two are, like, super cute."

"What?" The shaken blonde almost barked.

"You and Dipper," Mabel continued. "You look cute together. And I think… I think it's the cutest thing ever that you're in love."

"Oh god! That's not helping! Blah, you did see everything! Perv!"

"Heh heh, yeah, I'm a creep. Yeah. Hmm." Mabel felt awkward, so, trying her best to muster a grin, sought to crack a joke. "So, looks like you've been working out. Just sayin', since I saw you naked."

Pacifica stopped her shamed shuffling to look Mabel hard in the eye. But as Mabel nervously smiled back at her, eyes shifting side to side, she couldn't help but laugh a little. For her part, Mabel thought it best, for now, not to talk about getting her rocks off at Pacifica's expense. After a moment, Pacifica regained her calm, taking a deep breath and sitting tall.

"Fine." She said at last. "You saw us having sex. No big deal. So what?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"I mean, that's… hey, know what? That's a compliment, maybe. Means we're worth watching, right…? Ugh, no. That's messed up."

"What's wrong with being a porn star?" Mabel asked as she leaned forward and giggled, wearing a wide, almost lewdly suggestive smile.

"Shut up!"

They laughed together, mutually happy with the breakdown of the tension. All at once, Pacifica felt more at home in the attic, and for the first time since they arrived Mabel unhooked her legs; peace had been restored. At least for them. As the girls came to terms with their stress, a ruckus carried up from the kitchen below, the sound of a heavy pot hitting the floor with a loud clang followed by the sound of Stan shouting.

"Are you freakin' kidding me!?" The girls heard him shouting, each fearing the worst. "Not in my house, not today!"

They stared at the closed door that separated the attic from the stairway, each wondering the same thing before one finally spoke.

"Think they're ok?" Pacifica asked.

"Gah! It touched me!"

"Wait… that was Dipper." Mabel said, stepping away from the bed and toward the door. "What the heck is going on down there?"

"Sweet lord, look at the size of that thing!"

Curiosity winning the battle, the girls wandered near-silently down the stairs and poked their heads into the kitchen. Stan and Dipper, they saw, were… what were they doing? It looked like they were playing hockey with a broom and a mop, batting back and forth a big, black, fuzzy puck. When the thing crashed into the wall, the girls gasped as the furry thing unfurled and struggled to scamper away.

"Oh gross…" Pacifica said with a nauseous groan.

"That's a huge rat," Mabel finished.

The eight inch long, plump little rodent ran about as the boys gave every effort to box in and shovel the thing around. After a lengthy battle, Stan finally batted the thing out the back door with a loud and powerful whack, slamming the door shut behind it.

"Ugh, gotta' break out the traps again. That's a thing. Now, as for you two." Stan said with a growl, pointing at the girls lurking in the doorway. "Mabel, you're bunking with Pacifica tonight. Help her flip Dipper's gross teenager mattress and get her the good sheets we save for company."

"Wait, what? There are good sheets?" Dipper asked as he propped the mop on the wall.

"I didn't tell ya for your own protection." Stan replied. "Dipper, you can sleep in the break room for the interim."

"Wait, I can stay?", Pacifica asked hopefully, stepping fully into the kitchen.

"Yeah, you can stay. But I got conditions."

The room of youths stood in wait, eager for closure on this most delicate of subjects. Their rapt attention had seized him now, and despite all the tension, all the secrets laid bare, and all the pain of the growing migraine behind his eyes, Stan chuckled.

"If you're gonna' stay, you gotta' pay. In work. Dipper's awful at housekeeping. You can help him by making him do it better."

"Hey, how's that helping?"

"Second, and I'm serious… if someone comes knocking to make you go home." He said sternly as the smile left his face. "I'm not going to stop them. You go home if they come for you. You can't run away to the Mystery Shack, I'm not bringing that on to my house. Got me?"

Pacifica took turns looking at the twins, whose concern betrayed their relieved expressions. She nodded in agreement, not thinking twice to take the offer. Better this, she thought. Without another word, she and Mabel left the kitchen behind them, and Dipper and Stan to conclude their talks. Dipper watched the girls leave, turning back to look his great uncle in the eye, but seeing only his back as he opened the closet up and rummaged through its contents. Apparently the traps weren't an idle piece of small talk.

"Gruncle Stan, I—"

"Is it summer love, kid?"

"What? Summer love?"

"Yeah." He growled as he rubbed his temple, immediately settling into the dig again. "Is it just that fleeting crap?"

"Hey," Dipper shot back with a glare. "That's uncalled for."

"Is it? Heh, maybe it's not after all. Or maybe it is, I dunno. Time'll make the call, I guess. Always does."

The boy seemed jilted by those casual, pessimistic jabs. He couldn't recall his uncle ever having a successful relationship, though he was sure there was one at some point, if half of the man's stories had any foundation to them. Still, though, the criticism seemed totally unfounded. He was mad about it now, but as Dipper watched his elder struggle, he let the steam escape his lungs in a low hiss before crossing the kitchen floor to help Stan find the rat traps.

"I don't know what it is yet." Dipper admitted, helping pull a large box from the depths and digging into its dusty contents. "We only just said 'I love you' today."

"Did you mean it?"

He stopped, pausing to look up from his efforts and out the open window. He could see the treeline, the pines dancing in unison in the summer breeze. Strangely enough, this whole time he had forgotten how hot the day was; even now it didn't seem as troubling as it was earlier. And he found himself smiling.

"Yeah. I did."

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

Nightfall gripped the world gently, as it always did, but just as with the field where they first came back together, the Mystery Shack seemed even more tucked into the night than the rest of the world. Standing near the window, staring out into the deep dark, Pacifica mused quietly to herself as Dipper jerry-rigged his bed from the break room couch. Lacking sleep wear, she had borrowed one of Mabel's long, baggy nightshirts, which felt admittedly strange as she stood around her busy lover. She'd be naked and on top of him right if she wasn't due elsewhere.

With a sideways glance at him, Pacifica smiled and spoke softly.

"Dipper… thanks for doing this."

"Nothin' to it."

He seemed a little dismissive, maybe distracted by his fight with the bed sheets that never stopped pulling free from the folds of the sofa. But then, she didn't really care. She frowned at his response, putting foot firmly to his hip when Dipper bent over to manage his bedding. Toppled to the floor, he looked up with a grimace.

"What's that about?"

"I said 'thanks for doing this.'"

"You're welcome, Pacifica." He said with a greatly softened expression. He stood up next to her, staring out the window with her though not knowing what she might be seeing. His hand found hers, and their fingers instinctively wove together.

"Because you didn't have to do this."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

With a gentle tug, Dipper drew her close and kissed her cheek. She smiled, but beyond that, Pacifica didn't seem to engage. It was a little disconcerting. Feeling a need to ease her discomfort, Dipper stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging Pacifica gently, breathing calmly into her long blonde hair. Nuzzling the soft mass, he took in the smell of her shampoo and her own, faint scent, which made him tighten his grip. She ran her fingers over his arms, thin things that they were, but felt safe there in his embrace.

"It would've been easier to back off and let me sink." She whispered, squeezing his muscles. "You could have done that. So thank you for giving me this. And this."

She reached back and ran her hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head and inviting him to nuzzle her neck. Dipper happily took the chance, tickling her skin through her hair with his lips and hot breath. Pacifica's soft moan and tilted head caused him to shift, and his arms set to roaming up and down her body, palms running over her curves through the nightshirt before his lips bypassed her locks and pressed softly against bare skin. She giggled and sighed, holding his head there even as his hands tugged up on her garb enough to slip under the fabric and run up the length of her stomach. When his exploring digits first brushed the underside of her breasts, Dipper instinctively thrust his hips forward a little, rubbing his boxer-clad hips and slowly stirring member against her equally thinly clothed buttocks.

"Hah, whoa, easy big boy." Pacifica said with a grin, reaching around with her free hand and pushing against her lover's package. To his chagrin, since she didn't seem eager to jump his bones tonight.

He sighed in defeat, but she soon turned around in his hands and pressed her lips to his, parting them so she could quickly sneak her tongue into his mouth.

"We can't tonight." Pacifica explained after biting his lower lip and patting his hard-on. "But I definitely think you need relief."

"Heh, oh yeah?"

"Uh huh."

Kissing him again, swirling her tongue around his and groaning into his throat, Dipper found himself guided in a circle; he paid little attention to his surroundings, instead focusing on the feel of her mouth in his, and the feel of her firm ass in his hands as he groped it. He felt her hands on his chest and the edge of the couch on his calves, and with a gentle shove he fell to sitting, staring up at Pacifica's blushing face before she pulled the nightshirt up and over her head. Her hair spilled down across her torso, a messy mass of gold smothering her upper body until she parted the curtain, revealing her naked breasts. She smirked as she watched Dipper's manhood throb in its confines while he frantically pulled his plain white t-shirt off and threw it aside. Pacifica laughed at his enthusiasm, but paused to stop his hands when they set to tugging off his boxers.

"Not yet." She mewled, raising his arms up by the wrists and straddling his hips. She lowered herself gingerly, settling her own aching sex against his. They gasped together when Dipper, driven by instinct, spasmed and lurched upward, and the force happily ground Dipper's hardness against her clit. She bit her lip and convulsed, but calmed down enough to lean in and resume their passionate liplock.

It seemed an eternal process, Pacifica wrestling Dipper's tongue with her own while she slid along his swollen cock, a throaty moan escaping her lips every time her clit was pleasantly nudged, her breasts squeezing against his chest with each shift forward. Dipper found his hands on her ass again, greedily clutching her buttocks while doing his damnedest not to throw her to the floor and force his whole length into her. When she leaned back, extra pressure on his hips made Dipper pull forward, putting his face plainly in front of her breasts. It took only a second before his mouth found the first nipple, which she was happy to let him suckle. But only for a moment it seemed.

"Alright, Pines." She said, pushing him back into the cushions. "You've been good. So now you get yours."

She crawled off of him until she knelt on the floor, and with one smooth motion with her deft little hands she pulled Dipper's cock free of his boxers. He groaned, letting his head fall back as her fingers gently massaged his flesh. When Pacifica's tongue pressed against the base, he jolted and bucked his hips, and when she ran the hot, wet muscle up the underside of his member he sighed loud and proud. She ended her sweep with a flick of the tongue over his cockhead, lapping up the dot of pre-cum she found there before popping the organ into her mouth. His hands immediately found the back of her head, a warm nest of shining yellow bobbing quickly on his member.

Pacifica had rather come to enjoy giving him blowjobs; she got the impression he liked fucking her better, but she couldn't deny the funny, lustful sounds and mannerisms he'd make anytime she moved her tongue in so many interesting ways. Just like now, actually. A moment before his hands were firmly on her head, but now, as she suckled the head hungrily, his left hand had flopped onto the couch, taking up a handful of sheet as his right hand softly pulled on her hair. The slight pain made her wince, but she didn't break her pace just yet, knowing he'd let go in a moment. She wasn't disappointed.

As her mouth worked him over, Pacifica moved a hand below deck, holding his member steady with the other while she blindly fished in her panties for her clit. A pleasant shock let her know she found it. Her forefinger pushed and wiggled it without care as she proceeded, building up her own pleasure as quickly as her mouth mounted his. With an expert swivel of her tongue, Pacifica lifted her head from his shaft, but continued to run her hand over its slick surface as she rested her head on his thigh. She squeezed the member in time with her the probing of her finger, clutching the turgid thing tight as she sighed and dipped her digit inside her hot, wet pussy.

"Oh god." Dipper gasped. "You make the hottest sounds when you finger yourself…"

"Yeah?" She balked as she jerked his stiff manhood with a smirk. "You like that, do you?"

"Ohhh, fuck yes."

"Mhmm, I bet you do," she greedily slid his cock back into her mouth, wiggling her tongue as best she could against the length as she started digging into her canal with two fingers, nudging her clitoris while eagerly searching her insides for that extra spot she could only rarely find. With a few gentle flicks, she found her g-spot, making her groan into his member.

"Pacifica!"

She felt him throbbing, and instantly knew it was happening in only a moment. Pulling his cock free from the depths of her mouth until only the head remained enveloped, Pacifica set to swirling her tongue rapidly around the expanding, super-sensitive head. Dipper's hands wove through her hair, trying to pull her further onto his shaft as it bulged and erupted. As soon as his seed hit her tongue, splashing into the back of her throat, Pacifica's eyes shut tight as her own body burned with release; one last flick of her g-spot and clit together, and she sent herself spiraling into a blazing hot orgasm, complete with stifled, agonizing moans that only served to agitate Dipper's sensitive organ, and coax a couple more bursts of cum out from the overloaded thing. She tilted her head back in victory, letting her mane cascade down her back and tickle her skin while she swallowed the musky load, gasping in deep satisfaction at her own work as much as his taste. She returned to his deflating manhood a moment later, running the whole length into her mouth one last time to mop up what remained of his load before tucking it back into his boxers.

"That's my good boy." She cooed at him while donning her nightshirt once more. "I'll see you in the morning."

Dipper only sighed and raised his hand to wave at her as Pacifica quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. She giggled softly as she thought about his prone form, thinking he must look quite the sight as he would awkwardly crawl into bed and pass out for eight hours. That boy…

The stairs creaked a bit as she climbed them, but apparently no one was around to hear Pacifica slinking back to the attic. She imagined Dipper's uncle would be cross with them for sneaking around like that when he had subtly implied there would be no such nonsense while he was in the house. Which was why, actually, she didn't mount the boy then and there. There would be time for sex later. She pushed against the attic door, which swung open silently, but what happened next caught Pacifica by surprise. Though maybe it shouldn't have.

Mabel, obscured by the darkness, was leaning against the wall her bed lay next to, legs split wide while she eagerly bit down on her shirt collar. In her hand, not so much visible as it was audible, was vibrator that she had snuck into her luggage and brought with her for those rare moments she might find herself alone with her lusty thoughts. Apparently, Pacifica mused, this was such a moment. Still, she wasn't eager to be caught watching her one time nemesis masturbating, so Pacifica grabbed the door as quietly as she could and pulled it back. She didn't close it all the way, though, when she thought she heard…

"Gah… oh jeez… Dip…"

"What the hell?"

Pacifica leaned against the door frame trying to peer through the crack to see only darkness. She silently cursed herself, but wasn't willing to risk being spotted and flooding the room with tension and misunderstanding.

"Ffffuuh… Pacifica… Dipper…"

Was she… was she fantasizing about them? That perverted little freak! Sitting back with only her numbness and her thoughts, Pacifica wondered mouth agape what would lead to that. Her brother? Seriously…? Well, maybe. Thinking back to what Mabel said earlier, Pacifica recalled one comment in particular. Maybe she didn't mind being thought of as a porn star. In a way. A very narrow way, wherein no one else had to know what was going on. Ever.

And suddenly, there it was: the sharp cry in the dark that pointed toward orgasm. Lurking around the door ever so slightly, Pacifica peered through the gloom. Mabel had arched her back, her head pressed hard against the wall while her hips bucked and forced the vibrator against her nether regions. After a short term of gasping and patting herself down, Mabel switched off her toy. Her voyeur lost her footing though, and grabbing the door to keep from falling to the floor resulted in the frame giving out a loud creak.

"Oh fart!"

Like a bolt of lightning, Mabel had her shirt pulled down and her body hidden from view by the covers. Pacifica stifled a chuckle before pushing the door the rest of way open, though for good measure she opted to not know what was going on just a moment before.

"Mabel? You awake?"

"Mmm, yeah." The flustered girl answered, burying her face in the pillow. "Dipper settle in fine?"

"Mmm, yeah." Pacifica muttered through a grin as she eased into her covers, thinking back on her own lustful adventures.

The room was eerie, steeped deep in silence and shadow, and without Dipper's arm draped around her, Pacifica felt a little scared and out of place. It was a strange thing, actually, because she was sharing a room with someone who, oddly, felt the same thing for the same reason, granted Mabel and Dipper didn't have the same "depth" to their relationship. Still, it was a fair statement that Mabel felt lonely these days too. Pacifica pondered that a moment before her eyes drifted closed. Sleep, though, would have to wait.

"Uhm." Came a whisper in the dark. "Pacifica?"

"…yeah?"

"So, uhh… When you were downstairs… were you and Dipper…?"

"No." Pacifica answered quickly, more quickly than honesty would permit. "No, we weren't doing that."

"Oh… okay."

"Something else on your mind, Mabel?"

"How… good does it feel?"

"What?" Pacifica asked as she leaned up.

"It's-it's nothing!"

Pacifica's eyes searched the bed in front of her as her mind scrambled to respond, but found nothing there to help. Surely Mabel knew it felt good, she was masturbating just moments ago. Although, Pacifica recalled herself the difference between her imagination and the reality of it.

"It feels…" She offered with quiet sympathy. "I think it feels amazing. I don't know how it feels for everyone else… my friends all lost their virginity before me, but they never said anything about how they felt. But when I'm with him… Dipper makes me feel amazing."

The tension that followed made her feel uncomfortable; maybe even saying her brother's name was a mistake. Pacifica settled back into bed, covering herself with the thin blanket and closing her eyes in rest. There was a final, brief, quiet breach of the night.

"Wow…" Mabel whispered before rolling over.

"Wow… yeah," Pacifica thought with a grin before turning to her side to face the wall. "That's definitely how he makes me feel. Wow."


	6. Sea of Time - 2

A few days passed uneventfully, and though Pacifica was an occasional nuisance, the week went by more or less smoothly. And now it was Sunday, traditionally the Shack's day off, and these days for good reason; the tourists still weren't coming like they used to. Hell, the year before those suckers were practically beating the doors down trying to get any slice of supernatural stupidity into their lives. Inexplicable disasters and strange phenomena had a way of pulling in those losers. But as Stan stood on his porch, eyeballing the empty road well into the morning, he had to admit it.

"We're dead again today." He sighed balefully as he plucked off his eye patch. "Jeez, if this keeps up I won't make squat all summer. Damn heat. That's the problem right there."

The screen door creaked angrily as he pulled it open, snapping back shut with a crack that rattled through the whole house. His hat and cane he threw onto the counter before running his hand through the sweaty hair on the back of his neck, and with one last backward glance down the road, Stan swung the door shut, locked up, and flipped the sign to closed. He hated working Sundays, anyway.

His suit was bogging him down heavily in the muggy storefront, he found. Tugging at the neck to loosen its stranglehold only offered slight relief; beating the heat would require a change of scenery, he decided.

"Hey kids!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, though apparently only for his own benefit, as there was no response. "Kids! Calling all leeches!"

Nothing. Not a creaky floorboard or a hushed giggle. Stomping about in his frustration, Stan threw open the break room door, expecting at least to find Dipper and Pacifica in some hormone fueled state. But no, just Soos, snoring happily on the couch. The living room? Nothing. Nor the bathroom, the front porch, the upper rooms, the attic. The window was cracked, but the twins weren't there.

"The heck is goin' on?"

Stan returned downstairs, scratching his head as he stood in the hallway, trying with all his might to solve the riddle of the missing, obnoxious teenagers. His train of thought derailed as Pacifica walked past him, pardoning herself as she strolled through on her way to the front door. She opened it wordlessly, and to Stan's shock a young, brunette woman and a slightly older gentleman with a well-kept moustache were standing just outside. They both sported full to the brim, designer overnight bags with the initials P. N. monogrammed on their beige exteriors in vibrant gold stitching.

"Thank you Herbert, thank you Emily."

"Of course, young miss." The manservant answered.

"If you need anything more, ma'am, don't hesitate." The young woman apparently called Emily added.

"Please keep this visit between us." Pacifica said coolly as she dropped the bags on the floor, turning back to regard the Northwest staff.

"Of course, Miss Northwest." Herbert replied, shifting his thin sunglasses and nodding. "Anything else before we leave?"

"No, Herbert. Thank you both for bringing my overnights."

The butler and housekeeper bowed and curtsied, respectively, before departing. Looking out the door after them, Stan watched the pair return to a luxury Bentley that the Northwest servants, apparently, used for their tasks about town.

"What was that about?" Stan asked with a frown.

"I'm out of clothes." Pacifica answered calmly, closing the door and hoisting one bag over her shoulder. The 'heavy' burden caused her to wobble slightly on her dainty frame, to which Stan rolled his eyes and lifted the other bag with ease. Pacifica continued. "I had Herbert and Emily pack some of my essentials and bring them out here while they handled some of the daily chores. You know, like fetching mother another jar of imported cocktail olives."

She hissed out that last part, a drop of venom Stan didn't miss, and actually took a moment to laugh about.

"Wait, so your butler knows you're here?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you worried he'll roll over on ya'? Your parents are the ones signing the checks, after all."

"He won't do it unless they ask. And Herbert never does anything suspicious."

Back in the attic, Stan tossed the bag on the floor, heedless of whatever hoity-toity contents may lie within waiting to be shattered. Though Pacifica snapped to look at the bag as it hit the wood with a hearty thud, she only sighed before gingerly lowering her load on the bed.

"So that's what you've been up to, I guess." Stan said with a sigh. "But where are Dipper and Mabel?"

"Oh, right."

Pacifica strolled to the window, which had been cracked when Stan visited earlier, but now was wide open. A little ashamed that he hadn't thought about that, he watched as she tilted her head out the window and yelled up to the top of the shack.

"Hey, your uncle is looking for you!"

A few minutes later, the twins were clambering through the attic window, dusting off their clothes and wiping sweat from their brows. Apparently they were all just passing the time on the roof, and Pacifica only came down when she saw her servants arrive. Mabel gasped as she spied Pacifica's luggage.

"Oh my gosh! Is that a Fairchild Baldwin!? Lucky!"

"Or rich." Dipper added with a chuckle while Mabel fawned over the stitching and leather work of the probably thousand dollar bags. Pacifica only rolled her eyes before plopping the second of the bags on the bed, opening it with smooth expertise and carefully removing pieces of masterfully packed clothing.

"Anyway." Stan interjected, bored with the current affairs. "I'm closing up shop early again. S'go to the pool, it's a nice day."

"Woo! Pool!" Mabel shrieked.

Pacifica spoke with a smile while she unpacked. "Good thing I asked for my beach wear."

"Girls are changing in here now! Get out, pervy men!"

Mabel shoved Dipper and Stan forcefully as she shouted, ejecting them from the room and slamming the door behind them. Stan only shrugged and descended to the second floor, leaving the boy to stand alone at the threshold for a moment to wonder what sort of swimsuit Pacifica would be wearing. He blushed and strolled down the stairs with a dizzy head full of daydreams.

After the guys' expulsion, Mabel shook her fists with a giggle and sped to the closet where her swimsuits were hanging at the ready. When she opened the door, it revealed that in her ownership were two one-pieces, the pink one she wore earlier that week, and a cutesier white one decorated with tiny pink bows. She took the latter from its hanger, immediately setting to changing while Pacifica kept up her slow-paced unpacking. When she hit pay dirt, she smiled and clapped her hands together.

"There we are." She beamed in satisfaction, pulling a soft, white cotton cover up from the bag and unfolding it with a flick of her wrists. It was a light airy thing, designed to feel like you were practically wearing nothing at all. "Melissa Odabash. I got this in March… I had planned to wear it to Fiji in August."

Mabel paused and watched Pacifica lay the cover up down across the bed before digging back into the bag from which the pricey shirt came. Looking across her own clothing was suddenly a chore, so Mabel thought it better to ignore the feeling and continue changing, though her excitement was blunted a bit.

"Aww, these aren't the ones I asked for…" Pacifica muttered without thinking, lifting a pair of grey Chanel satin sandals from the folds. Mabel only glanced at the shoes, but immediately knew the last thing she'd say was 'these aren't the ones'. She heard Pacifica set them gently on the floor, turning to see her draw another, equally rich, equally cute pair of sandals from the bag.

"For crying out loud." Mabel said at last, her frustration more than a little piqued. "How much did you have them bring? We're just going to the pool!"

"Nothing wrong with having plenty of options, Mabel." She answered defensively. "No reason to shout, I'm just picking out my outfit."

In short order, Pacifica pulled from her expensive luggage a sun hat with gold trim and a shimmering lavender ribbon, two pair of high end sunglasses, and a second, lacey, cream colored cover up. All were laid out onto the bed over Pacifica's seemingly endless array of expertly packed designer clothes. Mabel couldn't help but feel self-conscious… and then Pacifica held up her swimsuit, or rather, the top of it.

"Found you!" She said with a giggle.

Mabel watched numbly now, staring as Pacifica disrobed and carefully slid her two piece over her body. Her eyes drifted from her old rival to the spread on the bed, then back to her side of the room. With a sigh, Mabel finished changing into her suit; she used to like this suit, the pink bows feeling especially cute and unique to her style. Pulling a baggy shirt over her head, she sat on the bed with a huff, thinking a moment about how certain people were happy after a lifetime of advantages, and certain people were quite the opposite.

Pacifica stood in front of the mirror, finishing the process of putting her look together, and couldn't help but smile in approval of the sight. This is the one swimsuit she absolutely loved. Returning to the bed and picking up the white cover up, Pacifica paused and glanced at Mabel, noting she was sitting and watching her in a defensive stance.

"Something wrong?"

"Nah, nothing." Mabel said, glancing at the mirror before drawing her knees up to her beat up t-shirt.

Pacifica looked her over, followed her eyes to the mirror where she stood just moments ago, then back at Mabel. She soon smiled in understanding.

"Ugh. Stop moping and come over here."

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

The pool bustled with activity despite the hundred degree weather, children and adults alike running hastily across the blistering hot concrete around the shining rectangle of water despite the loud shouts and whistle blasts of the pool's resident lunatic, Pool Check. Dipper grimaced at the sound of his voice as they entered the grounds.

"Ugh, what? Pool Check's still here?"

"Heh, I know, right?" Soos offered as he threw his towel over a chair. "Dude, I don't think he's gonna', like, die. He's been the same for years."

"Weird… wait. Is that…?"

"Huh, oh yeah. Tambry's the lifeguard."

Truer words were never spoken; she was perched in the lifeguard tower, staring down on merrymaking little people with the purest expression of boredom that could ever be made. She kept the whistle nested in her pouting lips and broke her vigil once every ten seconds to glance at her phone wrapped in its tough, waterproof case.

"Huh… guess Tambry stayed in Gravity Falls." Dipper said as he tossed his hat and towel to the chair.

"Yep. Ohh, dude, ladies ahoy!"

Dipper followed his eyes, and indeed there they were. Mabel and Pacifica strolled casually through the gate, chatting and laughing as though there never strife between them. Pacifica seemed comfortable being dressed to kill, the Egyptian cotton cover up clinging to her body from shoulder to thigh, the luxurious sun hat crowning her head, her eyes covered by a pair of black and gold sunglasses that were probably Gucci or something of the sort. What was different was Mabel: her swimsuit was her own, but it was blanketed nicely by the lace cream cover up, and her hair looked done up in jewelry that Dipper knew she'd never owned. Pacifica must've dressed his sister up for the day in the sun.

"Hey bro-bro." Mabel said as she walked by, waving her hand gracefully.

He laughed, not in mockery but to share in his sister's silliness and mirth, and as Pacifica walked past, she shot him a glance and a smile that made him swell with pride. As Mabel kicked her sandals and stretched her arms wide, Pacifica only smirked and pulled off her hat, shaking her hair as she tossed the hat aside. Next to go was the cover up, and the reveal shot electricity through Dipper from head to toe. Hiding beneath that white cotton shawl was a shimmering, lavender two piece: a tight, laced up bandeau hugging her chest, and a frilled, short skirted bottom that danced whenever she moved. The top and bottom both bore her monogram in silver thread.

"Dude, dude." Soos said with a chuckle as he gave Dipper a hearty slap on the back. "Nice."

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

He stared through his tinted window, watching the activity at the public pool with equal parts interest and disgust. The rabble… how they upset his senses as they scrambled to and fro. And to think this is where his daughter was.

"Vermin." Preston Northwest muttered as he peered through the glass. "Vermin one and all of you."

There she was; throwing her cover up aside, with her shame, swaying her body about for that filthy peasant of a boy. Pines… how he hated that name. That whole family! Grinding his teeth until the sound filled the back seat of the car, Preston's disdain began to get the better of him.

"Please relax, Preston." His companion said, patting his balled up fist in a bid to comfort him. She fished in the icebox that they kept in the luxury Bentley, drawing out a glass and some ice. The woman poured a small amount of scotch into the glass, handing it to him to calm his nerves. "Please, drink."

Preston took the glass, and still staring out at the sight of his loathing, sipped the alcohol bit by bit, not taking his gaze away from the sight of his daughter's dalliance with that boy. In short order, the glass held nothing but ice, though the young woman accompanying him was quick to refresh it

"I've been right to trust you with our secrets, Emily. You did well to inform me of this." He whispered between sips of scotch. "I had my suspicions Pacifica was up to something like this… but with the Pines boy? Hmph. The thought of him even looking at her from across a room…"

"I know, Preston." Emily said in soothing tones, stroking his cheek gently. She didn't manage to distract him from the pressing matter, which made her frown. "Aww, don't let it drive you crazy. That's my job."

"Now's not the time."

He never let anyone ruin him. Never. And a fifteen year old boy and his hormones wouldn't be his unmaking. Not now. Not ever. Swirling the ice and alcohol in his glass, Preston thought hard, bitter thoughts, dark and inspired things. He knew one trick that would certainly be worth it.

"First thing's first. Call Blubs. I want him to pick her up the second she leaves the pool grounds." Preston set his glass aside and leaned forward, sliding the privacy window open to address his driver. "We're done here. Home, immediately."

The Bentley, a black, conspicuous thing parked on the street opposite the pool, shifted into gear and slipped out of view. Neither Pacifica nor Dipper were any the wiser.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

Near the end of the visit, as things were winding down, Dipper and Pacifica had slipped away from the pool. He hadn't spent a single moment not watching her sway her hips whenever she walked, stared incessantly every time she'd surface from under the water and press her hair back, and any time he was close enough, Pacifica would feel him run a hand over her body. Seems like her swimsuit was getting the better of him, especially when she 'accidentally' bumped him back while they swam and noticed he was at full attention. Naughty boy.

Having snuck off to a supply shed and hidden themselves inside, Dipper had Pacifica pinned to the wall while they desperately kissed and ran their hands over each other. Dipper moved his lips from hers to her collarbone, kissing and licking her skin delicately as his fingers ran along the hem of her bottom.

"So," Pacifica managed between gasps. "I take it you like my two-piece?"

He only growled in affirmation, choosing to suckle on her neck rather than speak. Not that she didn't like it, choosing to chuckle and wrap one leg around his hips to pull him close. Dipper responded by pressing his hips into hers, knocking her body against the sheet metal wall. The structure shook a little, rattling the frames and causing a ruckus.

"Jeez, Dipper." She said sternly, pulling his face to hers again. "Settle down. Get too rough, and—"

 _BANG BANG BANG_

Three bangs on the door, the hard bash of a solid object instead of a fist rattling the sheet metal. The charged teenagers jumped in unison, Dipper turning his head around to look at the entrance while Pacifica peered over his shoulder. Neither moved a muscle in the split seconds that followed but felt like a thousand years to pained silence.

"I know you're in there." Came the surly, familiar voice of the town's enforcer, Sheriff Blubs. "Best just cut to the chase and come out!"

"Are you kidding me?" Dipper complained almost silently. "He's still here?"

When he looked back at Pacifica, he saw her face going pale as death, her body shaking in his embrace as if the only thing that could be outside was the Multibear. Her fear made her dig her fingernails into his shoulders, tug him as close as possible, and break out in a cold sweat. Her fear told Dipper to be afraid too, all in the span of three seconds.

"Don't make me break this door down! Town pool don't gotta' pay good money just 'cause you wanna' be indecent!"

He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow; this could only be for one thing. Opening them again to see Pacifica crying, Dipper sighed, but forced a smile, kissing her on the cheek before silently mouthing "it'll be okay." They broke their embrace, Dipper carefully adjusting his swimsuit so as to make sure no further embarrassment would befall the couple, before taking Pacifica by the hand and guiding her to the door, pausing to wipe her tears and kiss her forehead. They opened the door together.

It wasn't okay.

"Hands off, Pines." Blubs shouted with as much poorly placed authority as he could muster, shoving Dipper hard in the chest. "Pacifica Northwest, you're coming with us. You've been registered as a missing person, and we're taking you home."

"What?" Dipper and Pacifica said in unison as she was taken by the wrist and guided out of the shed.

Dipper's attempt at pursuit was cut short when a pair of hands held him by his shoulders; he never looked at the faceless officer, clearly not just Blubs' inept cohort Durland, instead keeping his eyes glued to Pacifica as he tried in vain to dig his feet into the tough ground and get any traction he could. For his efforts, he was rewarded with a nightstick to the gut, leaving him stunned and doubled over in pain.

"Gah! Wait!" He whispered despite an attempt to shout. "Pacifica!"

"Let me go, you idiot! Let me go! Dipper!"

She seemed so far away. Opening his eyes to scan the scene, peering through a thin veil of tears and fighting his jolted diaphragm, Dipper tried to stand, failing once or twice, before limping back to the pool. It was the hardest fifty yards of his life. When he got to the fence, he managed to see two cop cars pulling away from the parking lot, no lights, no sirens. He knew where at least one had to be going.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

It would all be for the best. That's what he told himself, that's what he told Pacifica, that's what he told everyone. He stared at the fireplace, a toasty, aromatic flame held in its confines despite the industrial strength air conditioning being pumped into every room of the house. Surrounded by the trappings of his study, Preston reflected on what he deemed important to him, and why he knew he had to remind his only heir, as of yet, that those things were important to her too.

And what was important, it seemed, was separating the Northwest family from the tripe of Gravity Falls. The world wasn't what it used to be; his name could stay here, for the purpose of money and money alone, but they could live wherever they wanted now thanks to the peasants that toiled for him and the network of computers that kept them enthralled. Yes. It was time for them to go.

"Mr. Northwest, we have her packed and ready."

"Excellent work, Emily." Preston said dryly, turning away from the fireplace with a glance to his watch. Five-thirty. How the day did pass, he thought. Looking up at his housekeeper, Preston frowned upon seeing a large welt on her face. "What happened to your cheek, dear girl?"

"Your daughter is a bit upset, I'm afraid." Emily responded coolly, touching the incendiary blemish with a mean-spirited look in her eye. "Seems she thinks I'm a traitor, sir. You'll be doing the right thing, I think, putting her into the academy."

"I think so too. Make sure she's on the way immediately." He turned to look out the broad window, seeing the town down below. Vermin… they needed to know their place. "Also, Emily… has my wife retired for the evening?"

"Yes sir," she said with a sly grin. "She's already medicated herself, laid down to rest. Seems Mrs. Northwest didn't want to bother with your daughter's insubordination."

"Very well." Preston smirked, though it faded as he spied movement in the courtyard. "See Pacifica off then, Emily. Then meet me in the guest bedroom as per usual."

Outside, scrambling, forcing his way along after the hardest run he had ever taken upon himself, Dipper Pines jogged through the open gate onto Northwest grounds. His gasping, heat-flushed body was screaming at him to stop, had been for the last mile and a half. But he didn't relent in his run until he was at the door, slamming his fists tiredly on the oaken surface.

"Northwest!" He shouted despite his burned out lungs. "Northwest, you open the door and look me in the eye!"

He beat the door like a drum, blow after blow of his fists against the solid structure barely echoing into the hall behind. After a minute of this thrashing, the door swung open. Dipper looked up thinking he'd see Preston Northwest, but when he only saw a manservant, confused and a little concerned, Dipper let his exhaustion catch up to him for a moment, bending his legs and propping his arms on his knees.

"Where is she?"

"Pardon me, Master Pines, but what is your busi—?"

"Where is she!?" Dipper blasted with renewed vigor, through still labored breath though.

"Sir, I'm afraid—"

"I'll handle this, Herbert." Preston's voice carried down the hall as he walked, feet clicking against the floor as he calmly strolled toward the door. "After all, you have business to attend to in your quarters. Packing your things."

"Of course, Mr. Northwest." The former manservant answered quietly, masking any emotion he felt. When he looked into Dipper's eyes, though, the boy could see some combination of fury and anguish before he excused himself. "Good day, Master Pines."

As Herbert left him there, Preston filled the gap.

"Welcome back to my home, boy." The glowering captain of industry said in a low tone. "Who would have thought that you'd ever see it again? Not me, certainly."

"Where is she!?" Dipper shouted, trying to look past the obstruction, trying to slip in.

"That's no longer your concern!" Preston shoved him back hard, nearly sending him tumbling down the steps. "Suffice to say that today was your last together. Enjoy what memories of my daughter you have, you rotten little grub!"

"You dirty son of a—!"

"Take another step," Preston said with a wag of his finger. "And I'll have you in cuffs. You weren't invited onto the grounds. I have cause for your arrest. I could shoot you now for trespassing if I so chose."

Undaunted, Dipper merely glared at the pompous man as he carried on.

"What are you planning?"

"Pacifica will be attending… Well, you don't really need to know the name. But the academy she'll be going to will have much less of the trash that she has been forced to interact with. It may take some time to repair the damage you've caused, but if nothing else, I will have back a daughter I can be proud of."

The growl of an engine was audible somewhere, starting low and growing in pitch and volume very quickly. From behind the mansion emerged a helicopter, clearly either Preston's personal or business helicopter, ascending slowly until it hovered over the roof. Starting a slow circle, the aircraft drew itself higher and higher until it arced off to the west.

"Pacifica!" Dipper shouted in vain, being rewarded only by the vanishing noise of the helicopter. He turned back to Preston, blistering venom in his eyes. "This isn't the end of this!"

And with that, Dipper Pines stomped off, leaving the grounds the way he came. Once he was out of sight of the mansion, he broke into a sprint, or as much of one as his drained muscles could manage. Preston, contrarily, calmly closed the door and returned to his study. The fire crackled, the clock ticked, and though his demeanor was collected, he could also hear his heartbeat. He trusted Dipper at his word, after all. It wouldn't end here, if the boy didn't want it to.

"I gave him his chance." Preston convinced himself as plucked his pocket watch from its resting place on the mantle, also picking up a letter opener that sat beside it. "He made his choice. Now it's my turn again."

Fiddling with the watch, a Northwest heirloom, Preston removed the back plate, dropping the master crafted, golden contraption carelessly to the floor. Reversing the back plate revealed its concave surface, a small circle of metal that contained within it an even smaller circle made of arcane symbols arrayed around a pyramid with an eye in center. Preston stabbed his finger to bleeding and smeared a drop of blood into the engravings. They glowed with a sickly yellow light.


	7. Sea of Time - 3

He had run hard, harder than he had ever run in his entire life. But in the end, Dipper had no choice but to loudly crash to the ground, desperately wheezing for every last molecule of oxygen he could ever hope to inhale. His muscles were on fire, and even now he could feel his legs throbbing with rage at their owner for pushing the limits so far. After a few minutes of gasping like a beached fish, Dipper found himself cursing out loud, stringing every mean-spirited thing he could imagine into one outburst. And in the end, slamming his fist against the ground, he said all those cruel things about himself. Self-loathing… that seemed all too appropriate. Planting his palms firmly on the ground, Dipper pushed up to only to realize that he was still a fair shake outside of town. Panning to the right showed him the construction site he had passed on the way up to the mansion, which he plainly remembered since he saw the police cruiser that had taken Pacifica pass by him as it returned to town. He thought for a moment they would stop him. But apparently they didn't even think they had to.

"Damn him." Dipper spat out through a weak voice. "Damn you, Northwest!"

"Yeah, he's a real troll when he wants to be…"

With a short yelp, Dipper jerked his head back and forth. He knew there was nobody here, especially not someone who could be parked right over his shoulder and speak directly into his ear.

"Who was that? Show yourself!"

"Don't remember me? Aww come on, I remember you!"

He stood up, making himself as tall as he could as he looked up into the sky. It had clouded over on the run to Northwest manor, and it looked as if the evening would be getting grayer and grayer. Closing his eyes with a sigh and a sinking feeling, Dipper took deep, cool breaths to steel his mind. He'd need it for this.

"No, I remember you." He said as calmly as possible. "Hello, Bill."

"Hah!" The demon came into being right in front of Dipper, sparks and confetti heralding his arrival. His minute cane and top hat seemed to dance to an imaginary tune as Bill Cipher applauded himself, Dipper's guess, or both. "Yep, it's me again! How you been Pines? Wait, wait, let me guess… bad."

Eyes still closed, Dipper lowered his head and exhaled. He opened them only before speaking. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm always here, Pines." Bill gloated as he spun his cane. "I thought you knew that. Or is that embarrassment of a high school of yours making you stupider? That reminds me, you still have a crush on that French teacher with the huge—?"

"Shut up! What do you want!?"

"Just to hang out." The demon said in mock hurt as he drifted close to Dipper, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I mean, you look like you've been having a real rough day. Tough thing losing the love of your life, am I right?"

Dipper growled and swatted at the impish outsider, though his hands merely passed through his insubstantial form. Dipper opted instead to walk away from the object of his loathing, though the first step he took seemed to plunge him into madness. The sidewalk gave away to inky blackness, a deep, endless night that Dipper fell screaming into for what felt like forever until, head spinning with vertigo, he found himself slowly walking through it.

"What…? Bill, what are you up to?"

"Nothin'. Why do you ask?"

Dipper peered into the void, eyes aching at the sight of it. It was nothing. Nothing in every direction. But then he heard a sound behind him.

"Where is she!?"

It was… his voice? Spinning to look at whatever was going on behind his back, Dipper took in the strange sight of himself. The world of black was replaced with the view of him having his argument with Preston Northwest from the side, showing both of their scowl-twisted faces. They continued to shout at one another without another sound being heard.

"Wow." Bill said calmly from over Dipper's shoulder. "Look how cheesed off you are. I don't think I've ever made you that mad."

"This isn't funny Bill…"

"Of course not. Isn't supposed to be. I'm just being your bro, bro!"

"Dipper… you came back."

He spun around again, mouth twisted into a frown as he stared at himself and Pacifica as they looked off into the forest. He could only see their gestures and body language as they talked to each other.

"I… what are you trying to do?" Dipper asked while trying to muster some courage. This was rapidly sickening him.

"I read it in a book once." Bill said with a grin betrayed by his eye as he hovered between the phantom Dipper and Pacifica. "You know, like a person! It's called… aww nuts, what was it? Therapy!"

"This isn't… you aren't helping me!"

"Oh?"

"I think I love you…"

Screwing his eyes shut and holding his feet steady, Dipper dared not look at what lay behind him. It was all just some illusory trick, he was sure. He couldn't guess why… maybe Bill had been messing with him the whole time.

"Hey now, not looking at it won't make it go away, you know." Bill said as he tapped Dipper's forehead.

"I'm not looking, Bill. I don't know what you're getting at, but this isn't the time for your garbage!"

"Hey. Hey, it's supposed to be good for you to let stuff go." Bill responded without much patience, jabbing Dipper with his cane. Dipper kept his eyes shut.

"What are you talking about, man!?"

"I'm saying that you're never going to see Pacifica again, so you might as well rip off the band-aid now! Now look at it!"

Bill's voice grew massive, and hateful, and born out through the heavens like a peal of thunder. It startled the boy into looking, and just as he suspected, he regretted it. They sat together under that tree, the phantom of him and Pacifica from less than a week ago now. They looked into each other's eyes. They looked happy. And it only served to remind him that he wouldn't be anymore. His eyes welled with tears.

"Let me go, you idiot! Let me go! Dipper!"

He shut his eyes only to wipe the tears away, hoping he'd have the strength to not open them again and see more of Bill's painful reminders. But he didn't, and he did. There it was before him, the last sight he had of Pacifica as she was torn away from him.

"Yikes." Bill said as scratched his head. "That must've been a nasty feeling."

"Shut up, Bill…" Dipper said weakly as he looked at the ground through blurred eyes.

"Yeah, this is probably the last time you'll see her. Know what though? You'll be fine. Heck, just yesterday I was dropping spiders into the mouth of this guy stuck in a body cast. You could be that guy."

Bill laughed and spun his cane about, causing the colors of the world Dipper saw to spin together into a darkening mass that enveloped his senses once more. The void was all around him again; no light, no sound, no hope now, even.

"Yep." Bill whispered in Dipper's ear. "Probably the very last time."

He didn't want to. He didn't want to give in to the whispering. But it was getting to him now, despite any fortitude he wanted to muster. Dipper wanted out of Bill's awful little bubble. And he wanted Pacifica back right now.

"Why do you keep saying 'probably'?"

"Glad you ask, Little Dipper." Bill blared into view again, towering over the teenager in a blown-up version of himself, shrinking rapidly as he spoke. "See, since I think of us as pals, of a sort, I wanna' help you out."

"How's that now?"

"Well, I say probably the last time, for instance. I could probably get you two back together, and it'll probably only cost you very little."

"What would it cost?" Dipper asked casually, convincing himself not to take the bait. He thought he heard thunder again, but he couldn't be sure. "I love her… so what would it cost?"

"Probably just your firstborn child." Bill said with a shrug. Upon seeing Dipper's disbelief and disgust, Bill only chuckled. "Kidding, kidding. But you'd owe me a favor."

"I'd never do anything to help you. Ever."

"Yeesh, bitter. Fine. I could always just help ease your pain over her. I mean, it's not like you two were in love all that long, you know?"

In the corner of his eye, Dipper saw a soft light come into being. He glanced at it warily, expecting another haunting memory meant to taunt him. It looked like a study, of sorts, with a gentle, incandescent glow issuing from a lamp set on a dusty table. He walked toward the light without thinking, feet carrying him through the boundless void until he heard the scratch of his sandals against the area rug underfoot. In front of him now was a large, old easy chair set against a bookshelf with all manner of green and red books randomly, or seemingly randomly, arranged upon them. The table with the lamp sat next to the chair, and to his left Dipper could see a curtain window. Glancing out, it looked like rain was starting to come down against a backdrop of night, though as he looked closer, he swore he could make out the image of Pacifica walking away.

"It hurts, kid." Bill whispered as he hovered over the chair's cushion, feigning a dignified style of sitting. "I'm not a human, but I still know that."

Dipper turned away from the window as lightning flashed in it; again, he swore he could hear thunder. But now… he was starting to feel a little too depressed to care now. Looking at the table again, there seemed to be a new addition to it.

"Luckily for you, Dipper." Bill said in a tone eerily close to sympathetic. "I have the cure for what ails you…"

There was no sound besides the rain beating against the window, though to him his silent, ragged breathing roared like a hurricane, dominating his every thought except the one that perched mercilessly in front of him. On the table in front of him sat the means of escape from this room, this world that he was trapped by, wriggling to death now that hope had been dashed. Dipper reached for it, not sure if he was thinking straight or really at all as his fingers brushed the handle of the gun where it sat.

"This can't be the only way, can it?" Dipper asked as he looked it over.

"It's not. That's why I gave you two options, kiddo."

"But, that's not really an option." he muttered painfully as his fingers gripped the handle tight. He lifted the gun in his hand, thinking it felt much, much heavier than he remembered.

The memory erasing device… how strange that it and Dipper should be reunited in this circumstance. Maybe Fiddleford was right to make something like this, just for these occasions. Shifting the eraser so it rested in both hands, Dipper weighed both choices much as he weighed the gun. Even though he trembled terribly, he still gripped it surely, though again the weight of the thing seemed wrong. And he seemed… it felt as though he were just running in the rain, though he was sure he hadn't been. Dipper glanced out the window, where the downpour carried on apathetically.

"This all seems wrong. How can this be the way?"

"Free will is a nasty thing sometimes, Dippingsauce. This is how you deal with it."

The dial on the gun shifted suddenly, rocking the machine in his grip as it wobbled left and right and spelled out one letter after another the words he wished to forget forever. It happened so fast… P; A; C… I-F-C-A. And without so much as a moment wasted, the second word: NORTHWEST.

They glowed menacingly in a faint blue light, and Dipper was even less sure than before that this was the right way. Maybe this was cowardice, what he was doing? Could he call himself a man if he didn't just swallow the pain and carry on? Sure, the first love felt like the only one that ever mattered, but was it really…? But could he call himself a man if this is what left him too broken to ever be right again? The pain felt that heavy a burden on his mind.

It was simple, really, what the right choice was. He didn't touch the dial even once after it seemingly moved of its own accord, deciding his fate without half a thought. All Dipper did was the heavy lifting, raising the memory eraser to his temple, breathing hard and fast as faint tears began to trail down his cheeks. The gun rattled in his hand, but it wouldn't matter soon. As he pulled the trigger, he thought one last time about Pacifica. Yes. He loved her. He did.

"Dipper, no!"

He was roughly shoved, his arm knocked up on into the air as he squeezed the trigger. But instead of the buzz of the memory eraser that he remembered from his past dealings with the Society of the Blind Eye, there was a loud plink, followed by an obnoxious, continuous grinding. He was falling backwards, he could tell, but as he looked up into the sky he could no longer see the study or the light of the lamp, only the clouds. He hit solid ground with a loud grunt and a blow to the back of the head, and though he was dazed, Dipper could still hear that horrid grinding sound. Besides that, though, he swore he could hear someone crying.

"Grunkle Stan!"

Mabel?

"Hold on, dude, I got the generator!"

Soos?

Whatever the loveable man-child was talking about, he had done it. With some fiddling, beyond his sight, Soos had turned off whatever was making that racket. All that was left was the gentle sound of rain hitting the thirsty ground, and weeping that sounded very much like his sister. Dipper next felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, pulling him up from the ground.

"Kid, you alright!? Kid!"

"What…?" Dipper shook his head to clear out the rattling. "Grunkle Stan…? Mabel?"

She was indeed in tears, sobbing audibly through her hands and wiping her eyes free of tears that were inspired by a sudden bolt of fear. Looking around his feet, Dipper spied what had caused all the tension: a heavy nail gun lay just a few feet away, now deprived of power, but before clearly not. That had been in his hand. That had been next to his head.

"Oh jeez." Dipper said as he rubbed the ache in his skull. "I can't believe this…"

"What were you thinking!?" Mabel screamed viciously as she slapped at her brother haphazardly. Stan switched from supporting the boy to keeping her at bay as Soos joined the circle.

"I-I wasn't-! Bill! Bill tricked me! He's here, somewhere!"

"Bill…?" Stan asked with a puzzled look. "No one's here but us… unless…"

"Bill… Cipher?" Mabel asked with shock scrawled across her face.

Dipper ground his teeth as he stared at the nail gun. That miserable little monster had intended his death from the get-go. People would have thought it was another sad, short-sighted teen suicide! Glancing up at the fences, Dipper swore he could see that awful little polyhedron mocking him as he faded from view.

He climbed to his feet slowly. "Bill tricked me. Showed me all the stuff I was feeling to make me even stupider than I've been. I don't know why… if I had to blame someone for Bill showing up out of nowhere, I'd have to blame Northwest."

"What are you talking about?" Mabel asked between hiccups, tears and raindrops alike running down her face.

"He had Sheriff Blubs take her back to the mansion. Then he flew her out to some academy somewhere… I'll never see Pacifica again."

Thunder rolled through the valley, jolting everyone except Dipper, whose eyes were fixed on the mansion at the top of the hill. His teeth ached from gritting them as hard as he was. Preston Northwest… apparently he was as serious about this as Dipper was.

"He probably sent her to that hoity-toity school his parents sent him to when he was ankle biter." Stan grumbled as he ushered the kids into the car. "Morningtide, or something… It's about an hour southwest of Portland."

"That's gotta be it." Dipper shouted, eager for action, eager for anything. "the helicopter flew west! We have to go!"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

There was silence as they stood in the rain staring at each other, and for Stan this was a sobering moment. As he looked into Dipper's eyes, he saw something besides pluck and determination. He was afraid of what it might be, actually.

"Kid… my advice is—"

"I don't care!" He lurched forward in time with a flash lightning. "We have to go!"

"Dipper" Mabel quaked with fear. "What's gotten into you?"

"It's not like she's dead, kid." Stan tried to reason with him.

Dipper's eyes squeezed shut as his brow furrowed in absolute anger, and he stormed off toward town.

"I'll walk there if I have to."

"Dipper, wait!"

"Dude!"

Stan watched him walk through the storm, even as the wind picked up, even as the rain came down harder on their shoulders, rattling against everything solid for miles around, making the most deafening of dins. Yep. That's what he was afraid of.

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* * *

 **· · ·**

She sat on the end of the bed, staring wordlessly at the mirror in front of her. It showed the luxury bedroom she was trapped in, evidenced by the nameless guard in the dark grey suit sitting in the room just beyond her open door. It revealed the trappings of wealth that her family expected her to forever be consumed by. And it reflected her. Looking at her own face, Pacifica Northwest saw only anguish. She saw her weary frame, wilted and drained and wrapped in the vivid colors of her designer clothing. Her eyes were red and puffy from on-again off-again crying. Her hair… it was just a mess. Seeing herself in the mirror, surrounded by the five-star hotel room, she could only feel out of place. So she stopped looking at it. The guard outside, one of her father's flunkies, laughed now and again as he rotted his brain with one moronic television program or another.

Eyes cast to the floor, Pacifica only sighed and thought about her past and future, still torn up by the suddenness of her uprooting. When she closed her eyes and drifted away, she could still see him… still smell him. She gripped her shirt collar and pulled it to her nose, taking a deep breath in hopes of feeling something more. Her clothes, though, only had the sterile scent of the soap that bitch Emily used to clean them. Even though she had stabbed her in the back, Pacifica couldn't muster anymore anger against her. Only angst was left to those thoughts. Biting her lip to stop from crying again, Pacifica only sobbed silently. She didn't notice the bedroom door close ever so slowly, noiselessly catching on the frame.

"No need for any more of that." a strange voice filtered in from above. "I mean really. Enough crying."

She looked up to the ceiling in shock; but there was nothing there. She must be tired, she told herself. Or slipping into madness. Or both.

"Down here, gorgeous!"

Her eyes flew to the mirror, but she only saw herself. Or did she? It was strange. Staring at her image, she could plainly see it blinking. But that's impossible, she knew that. Rising slowly, seeing her double do the same, Pacifica crossed the room at a snail's pace. She shook like a leaf as she stared into the looking glass, if only because while she was terrified beyond all rational thought, her reflection seemed to be grinning from ear to ear.

"What the fuck is going on…?"

"Such language." the reflection said, but not in her voice.

"Who are you?"

"Thank you for asking more politely." The voice said as the glass rippled like water, parting as a tiny, ichor-black hand emerged, then another, then finally a bright gold, triangular body, forced their way through. "My name is Bill Cipher. You can call me Bill Cipher. Or Bill. Yeah. Bill's good."

"What in the-? What are you?"

"That's tougher. I don't fit in human terms, y'know, so it's hard to describe it to humans." Bill said with a shrug and a sideways glance. "but the long and short is that your boyfriend is on his way here, right now."

"Dipper!? He's coming here?" She had a hint of excitement to her tired voice, but doubt still lingered in her heart. "Wait… how did he know I was here?"

"I told him." Bill said proudly. "And then I came on ahead to see you. I was summoned so I could find you two and take care of you."

"What? That's kinda… did Dipper do that?"

"Yeah."

"When will he get here? How far away is he!?"

"He'll be here in about fifteen minutes, actually." Bill said as he drifted to the window and stared out into the night. Rain was beating against the window, and the deep dark of near midnight concealed a great deal of the streets below. "If we time it carefully, we can sneak out and you two lovebirds will be reunited."

"What about the guard?" Pacifica asked as she looked at the closed door. She suddenly became concerned she would be intruded upon before she could even get close to sneaking out.

"That dope's been sneaking from the mini-bar for an hour now. In a few minutes, he'll have to drain the serpent, or whatever it is you gross meat bags call it in fancy company. That's when we'll leave."

Bill vanished then, leaving Pacifica by herself as she scanned the room in search of him. She looked in the mirror for him, but he was, thankfully, not there. She was desperate to believe the story of her white knight coming to her rescue, but to be frank she was glad the reflection wasn't twisted around anymore. And then, without warning, the door separating her room from where the guard was supposed to be sitting opened slowly.

"Now's our chance." Bill's voice carried from beyond the door. "Come on, we don't have long!"

She followed him out; the room was empty, though she could see the bathroom light on on the opposite end. Moving as stealthily as she could toward the exit, she was thoroughly spooked when the handle jiggled and the portal opened of its own accord. When it revealed no one on the other side, Pacifica swallowed her fear and forced her feet to move. The hall was empty, save for a pale gold sphere of light at the end of the hall.

"This way." Bill's voice called to her, the sphere pulsing with each word before it slipped around the corner.

She followed it to the stairwell, then down and down the fifteen floors to the lobby below. The staff was reduced to its nightshift, a bare bones selection of a well-dressed concierge and bellhop chatting with each other. Down on her hands and knees, she watched the two carefully; she recalled the guard telling the concierge on checking in that he expected the staff's cooperation in keeping Pacifica in the building.

"I won't be able to get past them…" She said in defeat, maybe to herself, maybe to her companion.

"I got this" the disembodied voice answered.

Across the lobby, a disastrous event occurred, at least for the hotel. A crystal chandelier, without warning, without any sign, came crashing down to the marble floor. The terrible noise successfully jarred all the staff available, as well as Pacifica, who nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise.

"Now would be good, beautiful! Run for it!"

She broke into a sprint for the door, not caring that she was tired, not caring that she was plainly visible to everyone, just wanting out. Dipper would be here. He would be here for her. She pushed against the door hard as she crashed into it, nearly knocking the doorman to the ground as she barreled through, and continued her run out into the rainy grounds of the hotel. When she stopped, pausing to catch her breath for a moment…

"Pacifica." She heard Dipper shouting. "Look out!"

She looked up into a set of headlights barreling down on her; she had stopped in the middle of the street without even noticing! Her eyes were open wide as they could go, and in a moment her whole world froze solid. The oncoming car's wheels screeched violently as the driver tried with all their might to stop, the sopping wet asphalt making it nothing short of impossible. She stood frozen, staring at her doom until she saw out of the corner of her eye someone running full speed toward her. Pacifica looked up in time to see Dipper, arms stretched out, shoving her out of harm's way. And fate had other plans for him.

There was a loud crack of metal on flesh, and the sound of a windshield bursting into hundreds of fissures, then the multiple thuds of a rolling body. Picking herself up off the ground, Pacifica already felt in her guts what she thought she would see. Tragically, she wasn't disappointed. In total disbelief, she stumbled towards him, whimpering as rain hammered down on her body. Leaning over his crumpled form, displayed for all to see by the car's headlights, she could only stare.

"Dipper? Dipper?" She spoke softly, running her eyes from head to toe. "Dipper? Dipper? Dipper!"

She shrieked and fell to her knees, gripping his limp arm in anguish, pulling at as she screamed his name over and over. He didn't answer her. He didn't do anything anymore. That, of course, was the problem with being dead.

"No… no, no, no!"

Pacifica fell over his ruined body, blood running over her hands as she cried like she thought she never could. Why was nobody here? Why wasn't anyone helping them!?

"Yikes. Gotta' tell ya', I did not see that coming…"

Bill hovered languidly in the air opposite of Pacifica, staring at the mess the boy had become. If he had a head, he had the look of a man who would be shaking it in disbelief.

"What?" Pacifica said in total shock. "You didn't see this coming!? That's all you have to say for yourself!?"

"Hey, don't treat this like it's something other than what it is. It was just a job. Besides, you're the one who was standing in the street. Thinking about it logically, yeah, this was your fault."

Hearing that, she burst into tears again. He was right. If not for her, he'd still be alive. If not for her, he'd be… he'd be happy.

"We have to fix this" She screamed into the rainy sky. "There has to be something we can do!"

"We can't save him, girly" Bill said right back to her. "Dead is dead, after all. But…"

"But what?" she asked through her tears.

"There's a way to deal with things like this. There are ways to forget him."

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* * *

 **· · ·**

It had been the longest six hour drive of their lives, and nearly all of it was in silence. They had stopped by the Shack for only the most basic reasons, and to leave Soos behind in case of emergency, then made for Portland as fast as the increasingly bitter storm would allow. What little conversation that was had revolved around going as fast as safety would permit, but more importantly the Pines' had deduced that Pacifica would probably not be at the academy until morning. And knowing Preston Northwest, he would have booked Pacifica at one high end hotel or another.

"Dipper." Stan dared to breach the silence. "What's the actual plan?"

He didn't answer as they rolled through the sheets of rain that came down on them, layer after layer of resistance thrown in the way as if through some dire conspiracy of all the forces of nature. After a staring out into the dark, dwelling a moment on the severity of it all, Dipper answered.

"There isn't one, Grunkle Stan. We just can't do nothing."

So they drove onward, Mabel slipping into sleep as time wore on only to stir into waking anytime the lightning reasserted itself, Dipper grinding his teeth in anxiety, Stan holding the wheel tight and not saying a word. Not until they saw the lights over the hill.

"That's gotta' be where she's staying." Stan said calmly. "Morningtide Towers. Super ritz. Stupid. Why do they call it 'Towers' if there's only one?"

The car pulled into the driveway of the hotel, and already Dipper felt like something wasn't right. Stan shooed away the valet when they leapt from the still running car, following his grandnephew in through the doors. Mabel, still shaking the sleep from her mind, stood next to the car and stretched and yawned while Dipper and Stan were met by hotel security almost immediately. Apparently there was some sort of accident, and the staff was trying to clear it up. Weird. Turning back to look out into the rainy night, Mabel's eyes narrowed on someone stumbling around in the dark. She couldn't quite make out who it was, even when she took a few steps out from under the large driveway awning. Whoever was out there, she saw, fell backward suddenly, almost looking as though they were shoved to the ground. Mabel had a sneaking suspicion, and it was confirmed when she heard Pacifica scream in the dark.

"Dipper! Grunkle Stan!" Mabel screamed as loud as she could. "She's out on the lawn!"

She started running, slipping on the slick grass almost immediately, landing face first in the waterlogged soil. Spitting the green tasting lawn water out with a loud raspberry, Mabel saw her brother sprint past in a flash. He ran harder than she had ever seen him run before.

He could see her, barely, in the gloom. She was down on the ground, screaming about something he couldn't quite make out, and handling something he couldn't see through the rain and the darkness. Closer, closer, closer… and then out of the blue, he tripped on nothing at all. Like Mabel before him, Dipper was face down in the sopping wet grass, peeling his face out of the mess in time to see Pacifica not fifteen feet away. She had something to her head… the memory erasure device! The really real one!

"Pacifica…? No!"

There was flash in the dark.


	8. Sea of Time - 4

**Semi-NSFW warning.**

* * *

· · ·

It was a little past midnight now, and to his recollection the rain had only just stopped, though it was admittedly hard to judge when that had happened since he'd been drifting in and out sleep. The matter with Pacifica had left him quite restless, to say the least, but he was more or less able to leave that problem to resolve itself now. He'd rather enjoy the feel of nude skin against his fingertips than think about all that, anyway.

Still though, as Preston lay naked under the covers next to his soundly snoozing housekeeper and mistress Emily, there was a nagging feeling he couldn't put to rest, no matter how much he turned his mind from his troubles. It stabbed his wakeful thoughts with inhuman glee anytime he sought to relax; he couldn't close his eyes now, nor absently run his fingernails over his lover's back. He stared at the ceiling of the dark guest bedroom, weary, desirous of sleep… but every time he thought he saw some movement. And it made him quit.

Tossing back the covers, Preston Northwest pulled free his feet one at a time, planting them on the carpet and lingering at the edge of the bed. He stared into the dark, seeing only the occasional, distant flash of lightning over the mountains as he peered out the window. The curtains were parted ever so slightly, and though he was secure in the privacy that the second floor bedroom afforded, Preston still felt a jab of fear, as though he was indeed being spied upon by someone. Something, perhaps…

"I hate this town." He whispered in the dead of the night, rising from the mattress and briskly crossing the room.

He stole a lightning quick glance out into the night to reassure himself of his inscrutability, then drew the curtains closed. Was that it? Was that what tugged at his thoughts? No. He pulled his robe over his shoulders, carefully donned night shoes onto his feet, then silently slipped out of the bedroom. Emily stirred a bit, reaching her hand out to touch empty space before sighing.

He wandered the house as though in search of some lost trinket, pausing every now and then to stare at some so-called antiquity or bauble passed down through his family line or take in the sight of a portrait dedicated to the Northwests and their decadence. Nothing he looked upon gave him peace of mind. Nor did it soothe his thoughts whenever he would glance into the shadows, sure he'd seen a glimpse of something. Maybe Preston felt as though he were being watched because he actually was being watched. He made his way to the study; the room was lit up by the desk lamp at the far wall, the favored tool of accountants and savvy businessmen perched over a pile of papers that only Preston truly understood the value of. Perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps something else, he approached the lamp, and carefully, almost timidly, reached out to tug on the chain. He stopped when he heard the distinct pop of an ember in the fireplace, turning to look at the fixture as a fire slowly and mysteriously began to stir in the half-scorched logs of the afternoon before. As the flames grew stronger they poured a dancing orange light out across the floor; when it grew long enough, the light caused a strange shadow to appear, a hovering triangle carved out of nothingness.

"Hmm, so it was you after all." Preston growled impatiently. "Just can't help yourself, can you Cipher?"

"Too much fun." Bill said calmly, though the triangular shadow on the floor disappeared into darkness with a quick shift to the right. Bill drifted silently about the room, watching the well-to-do cross his arms and stiffen his upper lip.

"Did you succeed? Cipher, is the boy dealt with?"

"Yeah, it's over." Bill mused, almost tiredly. "You won't have to worry about your princess and the Pines kid anymore."

"Good." Preston muttered. He grinned with a morbid bit of fascination. "How did you manage it, if I may ask?"

"Heh, funny you should ask…"

There was a clink behind Preston, and he turned back to look his desk over. A single cylinder was the difference between the desk of now and the desk of two minutes before, a seemingly hollow tube of glass and brass. Northwest took the thing in hand, looking at it carefully and turning it about in his fingers. After a moment, he recognized it.

"You erased his memories?"

"Well, memories were erased…"

"Pacifica's?" Preston paused, frowned, then looked into the dark where he was sure Bill was hiding. "You took my daughter's memories instead of the boy's? That wasn't what I asked of you."

"Hey now, don't take that tone with me." Bill answered with an invisible, icy glare. "You didn't specify. Remember?"

Bill manifested directly in front of Preston's face, startling the man as his body flashed with a myriad of color. After a moment, it smoothed out into a replay of that evening. It showed the very moment that Preston spread his blood over the symbols on the watch's backplate, the glow of those symbols, then the arrival of Bill Cipher as he fell out of nothingness in front of Preston's very eyes, filing down in a string of polygonal blocks bit by bit until the whole demonic little pyramid was fully made. The eye opened and the air became full of cackles and jeers.

"Preston Northwest! What a pleasure, what a delight! What can I do for you?"

"I have need of your expertise, Cipher." Preston watched himself say. "I find myself at odds with a young man who thinks himself… pay attention to me!"

As Preston spoke to the conjured creature, Bill had become bored and set to perusing the odds and ends of the study. Even just remembering the demon's impropriety, Preston ground his teeth together in frustration. The memory continued.

"Relax, old man. I'm listening."

"Good. Now, I need you to deal with Dipper Pines for me."

"Heh, oh yeah?" Bill mused, turning his attention back to Preston. "What'd Little Dipper do, Prez? Make a pass at your wife? Your mistress? Or was it… your daughter?"

"I've set my mind to making sure my daughter is as far removed from trash like the Pines family as possible. But that boy thinks he's going to change that."

"Really? You summoned me break up a teenage romance?"

"Is that too much for you?" Preston crossed his arms and leered.

"Heh, no. Not at all, actually. In fact, you can expect top notch results. But keep in mind that my price isn't cheap."

"I can afford it. Just make sure that Pines has nothing more to do with my daughter. Kill him if you have to…"

"See now." Bill said cheerfully. "Right there, at the end there. Kill him if you have to, that's what you said. Now, I tried that. Almost got away with it too. Would've been hilarious! But it didn't happen, so I went to plan B. And here it is."

Bill rattled the tube in Preston's hand with his cane, snickering quietly as he did. Looking at the unlabeled glass again, the entrepreneur sighed angrily and crossed the room to the fireplace. He held Pacifica's memory tight in his grip and stared into the flames, thinking how convenient it was that Bill gave life to a fire at the same time as he handed Preston the package that he wanted to make sure never made it back to Dipper Pines.

"Now, to be clear." Preston began, tightening his grip on the tube.

"I know what you're thinking." Bill said quietly as he watched the flames dance. "And yes, that's the memory of your daughter's involvement with the Pines boy, and a few other, interrelated memories."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Think of every time she's ever defied you, spoke ill, did anything you had ever disagreed with. Those memories are what I'm talking about." Bill whispered in his ear.

"Hmm, suits me just fine."

With a flick of the wrist, the tube was in the fire. The flames crackled around the glass for a few minutes; Preston watched for a moment or two, but as the brass began to glow he dismissed himself, strolling confidently to a shelf on the opposite side of the room. He poured himself a glass of scotch, and sipped it in self-congratulation as the glass cracked in the heat of the fire. The pop of the fissure filled the air, followed by the shriek of bursting glass and the hiss of gas disappearing up the flue. As Preston drank passively, Bill stared into the consuming flames, chuckling to himself. It was quiet at first, but as the seconds passed he grew loud enough to be heard.

"What do you find so humorous, Cipher?" Preston turned to glance at the hovering fiend out of the corner of his eye, paranoia gripping him.

"Wha…? Oh, nothing. Just remembered a funny sniglet." Bill turned about with a spin of his cane, planting it into empty air and staring at Preston with a narrowed eye. "So, that's it then. I held up my end, so…"

"I have no disagreement. I still wish you had killed the boy…"

"You can always pay me extra." Bill said with a shrug. "I wouldn't mind your daughter's soul, too."

"That would be counterproductive, I think."

"Your call, Preston. Alright, that's all for me." Bill faded away into darkness in a cloud of sparkles, leaving behind his leering, glowing eye for a moment, staring into Preston's soul in what felt like a mocking way. The eye itself faded away into darkness in time with a flash of lightning. A noise followed that unsettled Preston, far from the expected boom of thunder. Through the void came Bill's voice one last time, deep and full of dread…

"See you in your dreams, Preston…"

The fire died in a span of moments, snuffed out by unseen forces as the rain began to fall again, beating against the study window with renewed vigor. Preston felt a chill as he stared into the eerie, emberless logs, seeing the charred remnants of the memory tube where it lay and wondering, with earnest fear, if Bill was truly laughing about what he said he was. He held his glass, still half full, but could not for the life of him convince himself to take another drink; he set the glass on the desk instead, glancing once more at the papers on the desk. There was a curious addition, though… Preston reached for it, tugging at the corner of the paper that didn't belong, buried between two deeds of ownership for buildings in town. He pulled free an old photo.

It depicted the three Northwests, he and his wife standing with stoic faces with Pacifica standing between them, maybe six, seven years old at the time. He couldn't remember this photo being taken. Scanning it apathetically, he noticed that his daughter, apparently, was happy enough to smile at the time. Or maybe she thought that's what was expected? It mattered little. He dropped the photo back onto the pile before tugging on the desk lamp pull chain, settling the study into darkness again.

He was stopped in his tracks when the phone on the desk rang, piercing the tentative peace of the night. Already on edge from the unplanned meeting between him and Bill Cipher, Preston angrily turned about, eager to shout at one servant or another to answer the phone. When the second ring began, Preston reminded himself that none were present, especially since Emily was asleep in the guest bedroom and Herbert was no longer in the Northwest's employ. With a grimace, Preston lit the lamp once more and plucked the receiver from its resting place.

"Northwest." He answered reflexively, treating this call, as all calls, like a business meeting.

"Mr. Northwest." a stern, middle-aged woman's voice came through the speaker. "I'm calling from Portland General Hospital. Your daughter was brought in this evening."

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* * *

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He pushed himself off the lawn, whole body soaked by rain but not caring in the least. Stumbling to his feet with the sky still hammering down on him with heavy drops of water, Dipper hastily plodded the last fifteen feet to Pacifica's side, falling to his knees next to her with a loud slosh. He saw the flash in the dark, the blur of blue light that he knew meant one thing or another was no longer a part of Pacifica's mind. He knew this had to be Bill's doing, but he couldn't guess what had happened or why.

"Pacifica." He said gently, tugging at the memory erasure device as she held it fast. She remained unresponsive, sitting on her knees and staring absently into the night. More than scared now, Dipper pulled harder at her stiff arm and raised his voice. "Pacifica!"

That startled her. Badly. With a tiny scream and a spasm, Pacifica instinctively pulled away from his grip, falling to her side and dropping the device into the swampy grass. He dove to her, catching her by the shoulders before she crashed to the earth, but she only shrieked and thrashed about as Dipper struggled to calm her down. She caught him in the cheek with her outstretched fingers, dragging her nails across his skin with deceptive strength. He fell back with a yelp, reaching to his face as she fell to the grass. Mabel and Stan arrived then, Stan pulling Dipper to his feet while Mabel herself struggled to calm Pacifica down.

"Kid, what the heck happened?"

"I don't know." Dipper shouted as he scanned the ground. "I don't know! I saw the memory eraser in her hand! I tried to get it from her, she started freaking out! Where is that stupid thing!?"

He pawed at the ground for a moment, crawling through the murk until his eyes caught a glimmer, a fleck of blue light that couldn't belong to anything else. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and lifted the memory eraser to his face, turning the device around to look at its interface screen. He expected any number of things as he looked at the thing: Dipper Pines, Summer 2016… those things, that's what would make sense! Dipper gasped when he read the screen, and frantically began feeling the machine up and down in search for the memory tube, knowing it had to be there. All he found was the hollow space that the tube was meant to fit into; had it fallen out? He dropped the gun to the ground and set to searching again, more frantically if possible, more determined than ever to fix this.

"Dipper." Mabel said between growls as she tried to subdue Pacifica. "Dipper, what happened? What did she forget?"

He either didn't hear her, so lost in his vigorous search, or chose to ignore her. The slapping sound of his hands was all the answer she got from him, but after a minute of this behavior, he started slamming his fists into the soggy earth.

"No… no, no, no! Dammit! No!" he shouted as he punched the ground, splattering water and mud about.

"Dipper." Mabel said again. "What did she forget?"

"Somebody just… just call a hospital." He answered.

Dipper sank back to his knees, head hanging low as his hands found their way to his thighs. He couldn't say more now, it seems, not because of zeal, or active decisions to ignore her, or anything besides defeat. Sitting in the grass where he cast it aside, the memory erasure device still glowed with electronic life, spelling out in blue-green lettering the word that cast him down: EVERYTHING. And it was true to its word.

Watching silently from above, Bill clutched the memory tube in one tiny hand, snickering faintly to himself before turning to leave, fading into the black of the night as he did.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

The waiting room was cold. Maybe it was the fact that the twins sat in their still wet clothes, but not one of the Pines' was happy about the frigid state of the hospital. Mabel was ironically the coldest of the pair, her heavy, soaked sweater proving detrimental to her efforts to stay warm. Twice she complained about it before, and twice she refused to take it off. Scratch that: three times now.

"This is s-stupid." She muttered, hugging her chest tight and shivering noticeably. "How long are they gonna' keep us waiting? I'm cold and tired…"

"Again, Mabel." Dipper said icily, leaning over in his seat and propping himself up with his elbows. "Just take off your sweater. It's making it worse."

"Nuh uh! What if my shirt comes off with it!? No!"

"No one's gonna' see, if that happens. But you will get hypothermia if you don't."

"S-says you! Also, you'd see. And that's b-bad enough."

Grunkle Stan had wandered off in search of coffee, complaining about the cold himself as he departed and griping about having to be awake at this time, hours away from home. That left the twins alone with their thoughts for about twenty minutes, but neither one of them seemed to be addressing the elephant in the room. Until at last…

"I think it's my fault, Mabel…"

"What are you talking about?" she asked through her shudders.

"I'm doing the math. I think it's my fault. It never should have come to this." He said with a sigh, leaning back into his chair and rubbing his eyes. "I shouldn't have said what I said at the mansion. What was I thinking? Threatening Preston Northwest was the dumbest thing I've ever done…"

Eyes open, Dipper stared at the ceiling, transfixed on the humming fluorescent lights, watching the imperfections of the trapped, ionized gas shimmer and glide up one end of the tube to fade away at the exit. He sighed quietly rather than continuing, but could feel his sister's eyes on him the whole time he remained silent. She had stopped shivering now.

"Preston conjured Bill, Mabel. I'm sure of it." Dipper continued weakly. "And he did it because I told him I wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop either. And it's my fault he didn't stop. Jeez… I'm so stupid. I'm just so stupid…"

Mabel looked at the floor pensively, arms still crossed over her chest. She didn't really know what to say to that… the way he painted it, yeah, it kinda' looked like it was his fault. She leapt upon the notion of how he painted it though.

"You don't know that Northwest sent Bill after you, ya' know… it coulda' been that Bill is just Bill."

"Mabel, it can't be coincidence…"

"Can't it?" She said with a sideways glance. "Can't it be coincidence? Does it have to be a conspiracy? Can't it be that a demon is just being a jerk? That makes sense to me."

She shivered again, but this time, with a growl, Mabel stood up and started tugging at the fabric that chilled her to the bone. It was an ordeal, but after much effort, Mabel started peeling the heavy sweater up over her head, getting it stuck on her thick, equally damp hair. Glancing at his sister, Dipper's face turned instantly red; as if by prophecy realized, Mabel's shirt was clinging to the inside of her sweater, and now her stomach and bra were exposed. He hastily reached out and gripped the fabric of her t-shirt, pinching it between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and gingerly pulling down as Mabel continued to yank the sweater off. With some effort on both their parts, Mabel was free from the woolen nightmare at the same time that Dipper got her shirt to lay flat across her torso again.

She dropped the sweater to the floor, and it issued a loud, obnoxious slap as it struck the tile. With a sigh and grossly tangled mane, Mabel returned to sitting, shivering again from the fresh exposure of her wet skin to the air of the waiting room. Dipper, she noticed, was sitting with his arms crossed, his hat pulled down over his eyes as if to hide him from the world. But from her angle, she could see his beat red features. She too crossed her arms, staring off at the clock silently with her own embarrassed blush.

"So." Dipper said quietly. "I notice you're wearing Pacifica's…"

He trailed off, shuffling his legs apprehensively and coughing dryly. Her eyes shifted about as she answered.

"How do you know it's not mine, huh?"

"I think I should know by… nevermind that."

"It was the first one I could find." Mabel admitted, glancing down at her dark brown t-shirt, thinking about how she was wearing Pacifica's bra. She wasn't lying; it was the first one she could find, since Pacifica had left her clothes neatly stacked in the attic while Mabel's clothing was haphazardly strewn about. She didn't think that this sort of situation would show its ugly head.

"Anyway." Mabel abruptly spoke up, shoving Dipper hard in the shoulder. "I told you that would happen! And you looked! Dirty birdy!"

"I'll pay you money never to call me that again." He said with only the faintest glimmer of a smile.

"Dirty birdy."

They exchanged a quiet chuckle, a brief thing that felt like the first one in years, and when the moment was gone they merely stared at the sweater as it lay on the floor, the barest of puddles forming around it as the water was pressed out by the weight of the soaked fabric. The trance was broken by the sound of footsteps and the appearance of a tired looking doctor, his lab coat hanging shabbily over his shoulders as he scratched his neck and stared at his clipboard.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

They had left the hospital, taking shelter at the closest, cheapest motel that could be found at this hour. When they got to the poorly lit, almost gnarled looking two-bedroom, the Pines' were not disappointed; the front of the motel had more than prepared the trio to the grit inside. Dipper sat on the mattress that he and Stan were set to share that night, wrapped up in exhausted, near feverish thought. Mabel was already asleep, snoozing quietly in the other bed, cocooned in a pair of blankets and a soft, white robe that certainly didn't belong in the closet of such a bottom rung building; the embroidered logo was long ago torn off, but the robe was probably stolen. Probably from Morningtide Towers. Stan too had turned in, sprawled out and snoring away just over Dipper's shoulder.

Dipper, though, remained awake, rethinking his entire day, month, year, and life. Well, sometimes he'd become that dramatic. Restless and cold, wearing nothing more than his boxers but not once shivering, mostly he just thought back to the brief conversation between the doctor and himself.

"I take it you're the folks who brought the girl in? This your sweater? That's a hazard."

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance, then nodded in answer to the doctor's first question. Mabel responded to his second by scooping the sopping wet garment up in her arms. He stared earnestly at the annoyed MD.

"Anyway… she had no signs of injury or trauma. We drew some blood, but lab techs won't be back until first shift tomorrow. We've sedated her and scheduled a CT and MRI for her in the morning."

"Can we see her?" Dipper had asked. He tightened his grip on the comforter of the bed as he stared at the floor.

"Visiting hours are over. Besides, she needs her rest. I'm thinking some kind of mental shock or fugue state, and sometimes that stuff clears up with a good night's sleep."

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

He was hastily tapping his barefoot against the floor as he replayed those words. They were so callous and distant; weren't doctor's supposed to have some kind of bedside manner, just a bare minimum? Or was it troubling just because Dipper was scared? He knew one thing for sure: this wasn't just Pacifica sitting there with a broken brain.

"This was all so useless." Dipper whispered as he glanced at his reflection in the plain square mirror opposite his position. "Why even take her to the hospital? There's nothing they can do. Nothing you can do."

He shook his head, weary enough at last to give up his one-sided conversation, weary enough to stand and slink to his side of the bed. His uncle's arm proved vexing, laid across the span of the bed as it was, and after lengthy wrestling with the surprisingly bulky limb, Dipper managed to toss it across Stan's chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again he'd already made his way under the covers, head heavy and will depleted. A tired sigh was his last word as his hand found the lamp switch, flicking it off and putting the room to darkness.

Sleep refused him, though. Maybe it was the creaking of the building, the faint hum of trucks cruising along the highway every few minutes, or the laser-focused, orange light pouring in through the millimeter wide gap in the heavy, ultimately useless curtains. But now that he had put himself down to rest, rest wouldn't come. He stared at the ceiling, the light of the street lamp reflecting off the mirror onto that surface, somehow. Dipper closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. How he wished he could. Anger started welling in his gut, threatening to make him roll wildly about. Even just the thought of not sleeping was starting to make him itch.

"Damn it." He whispered and pressed his hands to his eyes. "It's not fair."

"Just calm down, Dipper. No one'll catch us."

"I don't know… what if someone sees you?"

Yeah… this room was a lot like the room he and Pacifica shared for the better part of the month. Weird that he only thought of that now, though.

"No one I know will be here." She had told him. And now he was recalling it like it was just five minutes ago. That was painful to him, making him roll over and stare at the floor. His breathing was loud to him, adding another layer to the annoyance.

"Hey, wake up! Let's go do something today!"

He shot up from bed that time; that rang out clear as a bell, so much so that he had expected the morning to have already come and his family to be up and about. It was still dark though, the clock having advanced no more than a minute or two. He sighed and shook his head, thinking it nothing more than a dream. Before he could lay his head down once more, though…

"Let's go for a walk!"

In an instant he was up again, eyes searching the room for the source of the voice he heard. This couldn't have been a dream, he swore there was something at work. That was definitely Pacifica's voice. But after today, and everything he'd learned over the past few years, he knew that didn't mean it was Pacifica. He put his feet to the floor and stood slowly, still panning the small space.

"Who's there?" he whispered as loudly as he could. "Bill, if that's you…"

"What are you waiting for, Dipper? Come on."

He was blinded by light bright as day, reflexively covering his eyes for the moment it took to acclimate. He opened them again to see a grassy field at his feet. He was clothed now, or was it then…? It was all a little nostalgic, if a word could be put to it. Looking around, Dipper saw the field was bordered mostly by pine trees, but his eyes caught the sight of that old, rusted-out pick-up truck with the aspen tree growing through it.

"Is this? Huh, the field. So the platform is over—Gah!"

"Hey Dip." Pacifica said with a smile as she stood plainly in front of him. She took him by the hand and started walking him to the platform. "You're taking too long. Come on."

"Pacifica…? Wait, wait… this isn't…"

"This isn't what?"

He stopped dead, holding her hand tight enough to stop her too. Pacifica turned to look him in the eye, an expression of concern on her face, and Dipper reached out to take her other hand too. He held them close to his face, staring at her fingers as he rolled his thumbs over the skin. They felt soft to the touch, like he remembered, but still something troubled him.

"I… this isn't real, is it? I mean, it could be another one of Bill's stupid tricks." He muttered more to himself than to her. "Or is it a dream? What if I'm dreaming…?"

He lowered her hands and looked her up to her face. Pacifica lurched forward, putting her hands on either side of his head and pulled his face to mere inches away from her own. Her eyes were black pits that spanned the entire socket on either side, and her mouth was open in a dreadful scream.

"Then wake up!"

He sat up with a yelp, head pounding with a painful headache and heart racing from the burning rush of adrenaline coursing through his every blood vessel. Dipper scanned the room like a cornered animal, not sure what he just saw, not sure why. Nothing lurked there.

"Bill? You out there?"

The lack of an answer concerned rather than calmed him, but without much more to think about, Dipper swallowed the acid in the back of his throat and slumped back down. He worked hard to convince himself that was the last dream he'd have like that tonight. When his breathing finally quieted, and five minutes of silence followed, Mabel, awakened by her brother's startled cry, let herself drift off into sleep as well.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

Morning couldn't have come soon enough. Dipper was largely restless, which meant neither Stan nor Mabel was well rested by dawn either, though he didn't wake up screaming besides that one time. The latter two had left the room for a while, leaving Dipper to rest a bit longer. They sat across from one another in the main lobby of the motel, "treating" themselves to the free breakfast. Though they both admitted to having hearty appetites, the sparse selection of gritty looking bran muffins of mysterious sources and scrambled almost-egg left them less than hungry; they stared into their cups of black coffee with dissatisfied grimaces and not much else.

Mabel tapped at the table, staring at the liquid in front of her as it roiled in time. "Bleh. Could've at least put sugar out."

"Cheapskate." Stan grumbled as he sipped his own brew, which made even his grizzled features twist. "I bet he thinks I'm just another rube he can shake down. I invented the shakedown, buddy!"

Grunkle Stan leaned over his chair and shook his fist at the bored motel manager, who only rolled his eyes and stared at the poorly mounted television in the corner of the room. Mabel chuckled a bit at this display, the normalcy more than welcome in these strange days. When Stan turned back around, he slumped down and muttered unintelligible things for a moment.

"Anyway." Stan said as he took another bitter sip. "Just to be clear, we aren't stayin' in Portland another night. Your parents even know what we did?"

Mabel only shook her head; if Dipper hadn't called and told their parents they were driving to Portland, Oregon in the dead of the night, then they didn't know, since she hadn't even thought about it.

"Of course not. Gah, you dumb kids. You never think straight."

"He's in love, Grunkle Stan."

"Or he thinks he's in love." He responded matter-of-factly.

"Well." Mabel began, pausing to stir the coffee again, watching the accumulated, mysterious substances that pooled at the surface break apart and dissolve into the inky black. "Is there a difference? Is thinking you're in love so different than being in love?"

He didn't answer beyond growling and finishing off his coffee, throwing the foam cup into the nearest waste bin and crossing his arms. He watched the news report on the television in silence until the weather report came on.

"Hmph. Looks like the rain's gonna' break up for a few hours this afternoon." He said as he glanced at Mabel. "We can stay until then, but no matter what happens, we're leaving at one o'clock. Got it? Go wake up your brother. I'm takin' you two kids out for a real breakfast. Unlike this garbage somebody is tryin' to pass off as food! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, wispy-stache!"

Mabel left Stan to his shouting, not sure what horse she should back in the race between the two grifters. And now she stood outside, watching the rain come down in renewed sheets from beneath the safety of a leaky awning. The gray, downcast Oregon morning had only just begun, but already had the appeal of a sad hipster movie. She yawned before making the lonely walk down the stained, bumpy sidewalk to room sixteen. Glancing at the parking lot, it looked as though only the Pines' and maybe two other families had stayed in this rundown, roadside motel last night. Weird, since she recalled the 'No Vacancy' sign being illuminated.

The door swung open with a sad squeak, and Mabel was met with a still dark room; she stumbled over the doorstep before her eyes had time to adjust, but thankfully she didn't fall. The door, though, closed behind her before she could find the light switch, leaving to her paw noisily at the wall for a moment.

"Aw, come on, dang it. There!" She said with a flick of the switch. The lamp flickered into life, casting the poorest of illuminations over the room.

Dipper lay where she left him earlier, still prone on his back, eyes still screwed shut as though he were plagued ever yet by nightmares. She stood over him, his frustrated features making her sad even though she could blame him for her exhaustion. It was hard hating someone when they looked like they were hating themselves. When he growled, Mabel took a half step back, but it didn't seem as though he was directing it at her. Another nightmare? She delicately put a hand to her brother's forehead, patting it gently. He didn't move, but his eyes did ease a bit. She rubbed lightly from side to side, and he let out a quiet sigh.

"Poor Dipper." She said with a yawn. "I bet you'd like to have slept more than me."

Circling the bed and sitting on the opposite side, she leaned into her knees and groaned, rubbing her eyes much as he had done last night.

"You always beat yourself up, bro. You ever gonna' learn not to?"

He snored a little, but didn't stir; Mabel stole a glance before returning to her slouch, only wanting to make sure he was still sleeping.

"I'm proud of you, though. Uncle Stan doesn't think you're actually in love. I don't know either, ya know. But I'm still proud of you. This is hard stuff you're doing."

He answered with a sleepy grumble, tossing his head a bit. Mabel took that as a sign of sorts, that on some level he was listening, but maybe disagreeing. Dumb guys, always putting themselves through such pressure. She yawned again, drooping sleepily over the edge of the bed. Taking another look at her brother, who seemed distraught again, Mabel crawled up and over to him, giving his face a long, earnest stare.

"Big dummy." She whispered, rubbing his moppish head lightly before laying her own down on his stomach. Immediately she could feel his breathing slow down. She herself dozed off a moment later.

Dipper's mind was far from pleasant; it was rife with feverish dreams, and each one seemed less pleasant than the last. But at last, relief presented itself. Empty eyes, unsettling screams, uncomfortable colors, and dreary dreamscapes melted into a blur of green and gold. It looked like an aspen grove, and it felt like he was lying lazily against a tree stump covered in leaves. Tilting his head down, Dipper spied a crop of golden hair resting on his stomach, snoozing peacefully as the world drifted by. He reached out a single, pensive hand, weary from his previous dreams, and ran his fingers through her hair.

"You awake?" he whispered.

"Now, yeah."

"Sorry." He said softly. "didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine." Pacifica said back, turning her head to look up at him. Her faint smile soothed his nerves.

They exchanged silent stares for a moment, then without preamble: "You know, I wasn't lying when I said that I'd make Gravity Falls my home…"

"Never said you were." She put her hand to rest on his thigh with a squeeze, but did little else.

"I just wanted you to know that I didn't lie…"

He let his head fall back to rest on the stump, which felt surprisingly comfortable. In his swirling, heavy mind, Dipper brought back the image of Pacifica pressed against the aspen tree, looking back at him with her tongue lolling free from its confines, eyes drowned in lust. The immediacy of the thought made him cough, and he felt a blush on his face.

"Whoa, hey there." Pacifica said with a chuckle. "Thinking of something neat are you?"

"Oh, huh, well." He muttered as she gently prodded his awakened manhood. "Just, uh, remembering our first time out in the woods…"

"Heh, oh yeah? Tell me more about that."

She prodded and pawed him through his clothes, sometimes tenderly, sometimes more aggressively, each pat and probe making him grunt a little in anticipation. When he heard the subtle sound of his zipper being draw, Dipper sighed and lifted his head up. He felt her delicate fingers fish out his hard on, and saw her golden hair shimmer and shift as Pacifica put her lips to his flesh. For his part, Dipper wove his digits into her mane and let his head fall back with a happy sigh, gently pushing his lover onto his shaft.

Mabel woke with a start, and a stiff obstruction pressed against her face. Though dazed, she was well aware of what the crown of her nose was touching and that her brother's hand was pushing her weakly toward it. Staring point blank at the tent pitched through the thin blanket, Mabel shuddered and jolted upright, swiping at her face with her sweatered hands as she stood sharply and wobbled to the sink. Three splashes of cold water later and she still felt pretty mortified. Staring at her reflection though, seeing her tired eyes and pale, frowning face, Mabel couldn't help but laugh quietly at herself. She crossed a lot of lines this month, but this still made her freak out. That was strangely comforting.

The towel she smeared against her face was, contrarily, stiff and nagging. Did wispy-stache really think cutting corners on fabric softener was good for business? When her face was dry, Mabel took one last look at her reflection. Her skin, roughed up by the off-white towel, now had something of rose hue, giving her the appearance of a fair blush. Contextually that made her feel a mite awkward.

Turning to leave, her mop of brown hair clumsily swinging behind her, Mabel wadded up the dampened towel and chucked it at her brother's sleeping form. The ball of cloth smote Dipper perfectly in the face, covering his mouth and nose; he gasped against the obstruction, swatting at it and smacking his face as he numbly flailed his hands. With a cough and sudden jerk, Dipper sat up and threw the towel to the floor, blinking his bleary eyes as wakefulness was thrust upon him.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Mabel said with fake cheer. "Get up, get dressed! We're gonna' get pancakes, then go back to the hospital, kay? Hurry, lobby!"

She was out the door before he could answer, the click of the lock nearly matching the sound of his lips as he smacked them, trying his damnedest to clear out the cobwebs and bitter taste of dry mouth. What awful timing, he thought to himself. First time all night he had a decent dream.


	9. Sea of Time - 5

The Pines' were only half-way through their breakfast when the call came, an unwelcome stab of sound piercing the calm of the diner Dipper, Mabel, and Stan found just a few miles up the road from the dumpy motel they left in the rearview. Drawing his phone from his pocket, Dipper answered quietly, anxiously, eagerly, and after a brief exchange of words, he clicked the "end" button and looked up at his family.

"She's awake."

As they drove into the hospital parking lot, mired in silence and exhaustion, Dipper bit his lip and tapped on the dashboard in anticipation. He didn't dare tell his sister or great uncle that the woman who called him related the fact that Pacifica's condition was unchanged. But maybe… maybe she just needed some familiarity.

The building loomed in front of them, faceless and tall, and dourly cast against the gray skies. As they got out of the car, one, two, three, Dipper couldn't help but look at the hospital and feel a chill run down his spine. He'd never liked hospitals, no, but he never disliked them either. This was a new feeling though, and it froze him to the asphalt while his sister and great uncle slowly plodded on through the puddle-filled parking lot. A chilling breeze pushed him into moving at last. But in his gut, he felt like something worse was in store.

The sliding glass door hissed as they approached, a burst of cold air issuing from the hospital's lobby that seemed entirely contrary to the needs of those within compared to the weather outside. It was almost cold outside, the storms having grown quite bitter overnight and wrapping the state of Oregon in an unseasonable coolness imported from parts most unknown. It did little to help Dipper's state of mind; the weather and building together made him feel worse.

"Can I help you?"

The attendant was bubbly, almost too much so. This was a hospital, not a candy store. But the brunette clerk did not seem to receive any such memo, and even the grim and tired demeanor of the company collected before her did little to derail her enthusiasm. It was a little grating, actually.

"Yeah, you can tell us what room we need to go to." Stan growled after glancing at the unresponsive boy. "Pacifica Northwest."

They were directed to the elevator, told to go to the fourth floor, and given a list of perplexing instructions on how to find the needle that was room 428 in the haystack of the hospital halls. The Pines' decided almost silently that they'd just figure it all out as they went. Once in the elevator, Stan crossed his arms and grumbled noticeably.

"What's up, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked cautiously.

"What's up with your brother? He's been a dead fish since breakfast." Stan said with a frown as he glanced at Dipper. "What's on your mind kid?"

Dipper only stared at the LED display as the elevator drew them up and up, a process that seemed painfully slow with Stan throwing him sideways looks while Mabel tilted forward to peer around her uncle's body.

"Dip?" Mabel asked quietly.

The doors opened following the ping of the lift as they arrived, and Dipper exited first, walking briskly and silently out into the hall. He stood still just outside the doors though, staring at the tiles and clutching his fists for a few seconds.

"It's nothing." He said at last. "I had a lot of nightmares. Nightmares that made me feel like there's nothing I can do. Because there's nothing I can do."

The elevator doors slid shut behind them as they stood together. Though his fists were unclenched, Dipper still stood defeated, smothered by his own worst fears. He blamed himself for his failures again, sighing before peeling off his hat and scratching his scalp.

"What a waste of time this all was… I'm sorry I dragged you two into—"

"Hey." Mabel interrupted him with a tight hug. "Shut up, Dipper. You didn't drag us into anything."

"Speak for yourself." Stan commented with a hidden smirk. "Whole thing makes me wish you twerps could drive yourselves."

"Ok. You didn't drag me into anything. Also, Grunkle Stan's here against his will, but that's still good, right?"

Dipper remained unconfident, but at least he lifted his head with a tired breath. Mabel's hug continued for several moments until he managed a small smile.

"Besides." Stan added. "Her stay here is on Preston's insurance. No skin off my nose. Come on, let's get on with it."

Stan started on his own, leaving the twins to their own devices for a moment. Though somewhat relieved, the boy couldn't shake the chill from his bones; it haunted him even now, the image of Pacifica slumping over in the rain, rendered helpless by a dirty trick taken way too far.

"So… what's really bothering you, Dipper?"

He looked into his sister's eyes now, the reassuring embrace now several moments over. Her concern shook him a little, if only because he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to serious Mabel. Or maybe it was the twin sense he refused to believe was real, and it was telling her that something was wrong, a thought which made him feel exposed.

"Mabel. I didn't want to say anything earlier. When I got the phone call… Pacifica's condition is unchanged." He shook his head and growled before continuing. "I mean, of course it hasn't, right? She's not in shock. She isn't hurt or sick or anything. It was dumb bringing her to a hospital… we should've just taken her back to Gravity Falls. Our best odds of fixing this sort of thing are in town."

"Yeah, well." Mabel replied while scratching her ear and glancing at Dipper's wounded face. "I think that would've been bad too. She was all crazy and stuff."

"I guess so." He ran a finger over the injuries on his cheek, still tender from when Pacifica haphazardly slashed his skin away. Weird that she did that… but the circumstances were to blame, he assured himself. Dipper turned and started walking side by side with his sister down the hall that Stan had ventured to just a minute before. "Besides… I guess that would've been kidnapping, my plan."

"Especially with her baby brains right now."

"Wha…? Baby brains?"

"You said she forgot everything." Mabel said through a sigh. "Kinda' like she's a baby now. Creep. Being in love with a baby."

Dipper only shook his head; though he smiled as though a chuckle wasn't too far behind, such an expression never got past his lips. Part of it was that the joke was somewhat in bad taste, and part of it was that as they approached the nursing station, they could see Grunkle Stan at work arguing with hospital staff. The conversation was more or less hushed, no angry outbursts, but based on gestures alone Stanford was far from unagitated.

"I don't like this…" Dipper said in hushed tones. "Come on."

They picked up their pace, reaching the desk in time to hear unsettling words: "Oh come on! You guys just called us a half-hour ago! What happened since then that we can't visit!?"

"What?" Dipper began. "Can't visit?"

"What's going on, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked.

"This chuckle-head says we're barred from visiting your girlfriend, kid." Stan grumbled with an accusatory tone and a gnarled, pointing finger. "But guess what? They won't say why. Or who did it."

"Sir." The nurse began, looking rather frazzled herself and not wanting to deal with a mad old man with too much time on his hands. "I'm not at liberty to tell you anything. The girl's family is here, and they're the ones who don't want you visiting."

"What!?" the twins bellowed in paired disbelief.

"I'm sorry." She continued, looking more frustrated than sympathetic. "But there's nothing more I can do. You'll have to take it up with them."

"Oh, we will." Dipper muttered with some venom.

"Will you now?"

That voice made him shudder where he stood, not from fear but bitter and unbending anger. His eyes were shut tight, vaults against the sight of the man and against the wellspring of blinding emotion that the sight would almost assuredly bring.

"By all means, Pines." Preston said with an icy chill. "'Take it up' with me. Appeal to my good will."

"What's the big idea, Northwest?" Stan spoke, hiding his own disdain much better than Dipper. "Shuttled off your kid, but now that there's a potential scandal you drop everything to be at her side?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Mr. Pines." Preston answered huffily.

"Don't you?" Dipper spoke up at last.

The boy's eyes met his, and all they could see in each other was venom. The moment ground on and on with the deathly intent of an ancient glacier, poised and ready to grind to dust whatever lay in its path, neither Preston nor Dipper willing to step away from that doom. Until the silence was broken, and Preston Northwest smirked.

"Go on then, boy." He said with a chuckle. "Appeal to my humanity. Make me your brother."

"Why are you doing this?"

"She's my daughter." He closed in with a scowl, pointing a finger that shook with silent rage. "I told you to leave her alone. But here you are. Stalking her no matter where she goes. I have no choice but to let the law step in, since you won't behave rationally."

"You're calling me irrational? It's your fault she's here at all! Bill erased all her memories because of you!"

That shocked the previously confident man, who stood tall once more with a brief look of disbelief.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Bill Cipher." Dipper continued through grinding teeth. "You sent that monster after me. Then he went after Pacifica! That's why she's in the hospital at all. You've visited her already, right!? Wonder why she's acting like a baby? He erased all her memories! All of them!"

Preston scanned the nursing station; a great many people were looking at them, and it seems as though security had been called, as two gruff, pudgy guards had made the scene and were being filled in by one nurse or another. Taking the moment to advance his agenda, Preston cleared his throat and raised a hand in expectation.

"Francis, the documents please. The Pines' are almost through here, I want to make sure they're informed before they're ejected."

"Of course, Preston." A well groomed, middle-aged man spoke up, emerging from what felt like pure shadow in a crisp, dark grey suit, perfectly pressed white shirt, and copper-red tie. With a swift, smooth flick of the wrist, the gentleman named Francis deposited a thin set of documents in Preston's hand before he looked at the motley crew assembled here. He paused when he saw the eldest Pines.

"My, my." Francis said as he grinned ear to ear, his slick-backed hair shifting slightly with the expression. "Hello again, Stanford. Staying out of trouble, I hope?"

"Wha…?" Dipper asked, somewhat bewildered. "You know each other, Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah." Stan grumbled as he crossed his arms. "Preston's pet, Francis Mangels. Corporate tort lawyer, right?"

"That's right, Stanford, though I have been known to handle vandalism and slander suits." He continued, grinning all the while at Stan as he did. He paused to look at Dipper next, and his shark-like smile disappeared. "Though today, I'm helping my good friend deal with a stalker."

"These very, very legal documents, Dipper Pines," Preston said matter-of-factly, holding them point blank in front of the boy as he spoke loud for all to hear. "are a court order. You are not to be within a hundred yards of anyone in the Northwest family. Now, consider yourself informed."

"What!?" Dipper growled, lunging forward and grasping the paper aggressively.

"You can't do this!" Mabel interjected, much more emotionally.

"Dirty trick, Preston." Stan added, balling his fists. "And I know dirty tricks!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do. But that's all now, Pines. Security? Please escort these three out. They are presently violating a restraining order, but I'd rather not bother the police if we don't have to."

Nurses and patients passively watched as security slowly, deliberately, forced the unwanted Pines' from the hall, a sight as grossly enthralling as a traffic collision. Dipper and Stan voiced a lengthy din as they were escorted, making as memorable a scene as possible before they were driven into the elevator. Mabel silently followed, being pushed along briskly by a third guard while his burlier companions wrangled the noisome duo. Once their shouts were silenced, Preston huffed quietly to himself before turning around and walking back to his daughter's room, Francis Mangels in tow.

"That went pretty smoothly, I think." Francis said with a smirk, straightening his tie.

Preston didn't answer; his thoughts flashed back to his unscheduled meeting that morning, wherein Bill Cipher delivered news of his successful mission. Successful… right. That damned imp made a fool of him! Ignoring his best instincts, Preston chose to believe in Bill's recounting, believe that he wouldn't have pulled a fast one on him. And now he was down an heir in addition to his payment to that wretch Cipher. At the door, Preston growled and gripped the handle tight.

"Little bastard…! Damn him!" he whispered acidly.

"The boy, Preston?"

"No." He answered. "Not the boy."

"Do you mean what he was talking about? Bill something or other…? Preston, what was that about?"

Preston didn't answer at first, but did loosen his grip on the door handle.

"We can speak inside."

They slipped into the room quietly, having learned earlier that too much noise would end up upsetting Pacifica to the point of bawling and screaming. She lay in bed, hooked up to an array of electronic monitoring devices, her limbs bound to the bars by sturdy, cushioned straps. Her face was bruised and scratched, a result of her relentless thrashing. As Preston and Francis stood at Pacifica's bedside, the girl looked at them with curious, empty eyes, as though she had no clue what these two creatures were. As though she were an infant all over again. Preston cursed himself for so hastily destroying the memories…

"So." Francis asked casually. "What was the boy going on about?"

"Pacifica's condition is a result of some outside help I hired to stop the Pines boy from violating my daughter any further."

"You hired someone to do this? Preston…"

"This is far from what I asked of him." The shamed plutocrat said with a growl, turning sharply to look his lawyer in the eye. "I hired him to deal with Pines, not my daughter."

"Where on Earth did he find the time…?" Francis wondered aloud, looking at Pacifica's voided eyes and battered face.

"He always finds a way." Preston muttered. His eyes glanced past Francis a moment, seeing a mirror on the opposite wall. A faint glimmer had caught his attention, but all he saw was himself there, and Francis still looking at Pacifica.

"Well, no one will believe him." Francis calmly filled the silence, adjusting his tie. "Not once I'm done with the gag orders. But what about your daughter? Will she recover?"

"No."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, Francis."

"Pity. That would work in your favor. Anyway, I'll give my partners a call and get the appointments with the judges in order—"

"Wait." Preston murmured as he grabbed Francis by the arm. "There's another matter. A tad more desperate…"

Preston whispered now, almost inaudibly for some reason, until such time that Francis took a step back in shock.

"Preston, that's…! Are you sure about this?"

"I am…"

Their conversation continued for several moments, occasional pauses breaking the hushed conspiracy as the men shook their heads and gestured hastily with their hands. Neither noticed the mirror as it did behave oddly for a mirror; neither man saw what seemed to be Preston's shadow as it stood back from its owner, a hand lifted to its chin without consent of the body casting the shade, pondering silently while Preston and Francis argued. Nor did they see it turn and walk away, fading into nothingness.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

The drive home… that was probably the worst part of this whole ordeal, now. The apprehension from the night before? That was bad. The plunge into the abyss when Pacifica fried her own brain for who knows what reason? Much worse. Driving back to Gravity Falls with their tails between their legs, beaten by happenstance and devious legal torts, stripped of all hope of reversing the tide? Yeah. Yeah, that was the worst part.

Stan was belligerent as they pulled onto the freeway in Portland, nearly sideswiping a sedan as the Pines' vehicle veered into the lane out of nowhere. But an hour or so into the trip, Stanford Pines seemed to have beaten his swords to plowshares, his fury having been burnt away and only a silent, glaring old man being left in its place. The twins sat in back, Mabel to the left, Dipper to right, pushing himself as far away as he could from both his elder and his sister. He had spent a great deal of time tearing through the pages of the restraining order again and again, never once conceding that this was the end for the full length of time it took Grunkle Stan to cool his jets. But now he was silent too, seeming like a statue propped against the window as he stared out into the landscape.

Mabel watched him closely, wearing a frown very much as gloomy as her brother's, not sure what to say to him anymore. She'd tried being supportive. She'd tried being optimistic. But with hope so thoroughly dashed, what was there left to try? He looked defeated, because he was.

She opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words. No words that describe how much she hurt for Dipper, no words that could be used to console him. No words. She looked away from him, not wanting to see any more of those pain-marred eyes.

"What good am I then?" Mabel cursed herself inwardly. "I wish I could do something…"

There was a noise to her right, a recognizable, low thrum like water pouring down a drain. Mabel looked again to her brother, who in his torment, seemed eager to ignore his own borborygmi, let himself wither and perish.

"You're going to eat some lunch." She told the Dipper in her mind. "And you're going to think of something. You always do."

She leaned forward in her seat, coughing to clear her throat.

"Grunkle Stan, can we—"

"No."

His sharp response cut her to the quick. Seems he wasn't handling the stress any better than the twins.

"Grunkle Stan, we barely had breakfast. Can we just stop for a quick lunch?"

"No, Mabel."

"A gas station, then?" She started to whine a bit, desperate to do something besides let Dipper drown in sadness and hunger. "Dipper's stomach is louder and more obnoxious than me."

"Fine. Last stop before home, though."

Despite the concession, it was a full twenty minutes before there was even a store of any sort to disembark at. When Stan finally pulled off the freeway, it was to draw the car toward a rundown diner and gas station. Thunder loomed in the distance, warning the party of the closing of the storm's narrow window of safety. Stan busied himself with gassing up the car, tapping the glass of Mabel's window to bring her out. Since she requested this pit stop, the girl had spent almost all of the time between then and now staring at Dipper. He hadn't moved an inch of his own accord, and if anything, his posture had decayed with every little bump until he was barely even sitting up anymore. Even now, all he did was sigh and stare out the window, pathetic and grey as the sky he was cast against.

"Dipper?"

"Hey, come on, Mabel." Stan yelled as softly as he could, tapping on the glass again. "Run in and get a table. I'll bring him in when we're done gassing up."

She whimpered a bit and reached for the door handle, but before she went inside, Mabel slid close to her brother and wrapped an arm around him, cradling his chin and pressing her forehead to his hatted head.

"It'll be okay, somehow." She whispered before kissing the top of his head. And with that, she left him.

Dipper's thoughts were dark and deep and fleeting, each one giving rise to scores of ideas and plots that would endlessly murder themselves in his head, leaving behind only the single feeling, the one thing that for some reason just wouldn't, or couldn't, destroy itself: Dipper Pines, this is all your fault. He didn't notice when Stan finished pumping the gas, or when the car pulled closer the dingy diner. It was, at first, a dramatic act of human puppetry to stop Dipper's body from spilling to the ground when Stan opened the door, and equally so just to get the boy to properly stand on its own. He remembered looking Stan in the eyes while the grump spoke to him, but the words were lost in the ringing in his ears. Eventually, though, Dipper found himself inside, sitting at the booth, staring idly at a menu placed before him.

He couldn't, however, force himself to eat. The thought alone nauseated him, so much so that without a word, Dipper rose from his spot and lurched to the bathroom. It was a single stalled cube of a room, stank of stale water, and had the overall look and appeal of an abandoned outhouse. Turning on the faucets and splashing cold water on his face, Dipper spat out the acid that accumulated in the back of his throat and breathed as voraciously as if he had just swam up from the bottom of the sea. After a few moments, his hearing returned, as well as his overall sense of self. Of course, the ebb of the numbness brought on the flow of what his mind was trying to force out. Looking at his dampened face in the foggy mirror, Dipper noticed his eyes had grown red, and his vision was blurring up by the second.

"Don't." He whispered to his reflection. "Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't—"

He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, refusing to look himself in the eye while squeezing the round, porcelain sink tight enough that his hands ached. Struggling to hold himself together, Dipper ran his hand up his face, pressing his fingers hard against his eyes, though that didn't help. He gripped his hat and threw it to the floor with a loud growl, but that didn't help either. At last, he stumbled back a bit, falling into sitting on the toilet and burying his face in his hands. With a deep, shuddering breath, Dipper exhaled out a series of sobs as his very last bit of mental fortitude caved, breaking down after hours of holding back into crying.

"It's all your fault. You know that, right? It's all your fault! You're the one who had to go back to Gravity Falls! You! Everyone would've been fine if it wasn't for you!"

"It is." He whimpered more than realistically stated. "It is my fault. Pacifica… I'm sorry. I don't know… I don't know what to do… "

Leaning into his hands, pressing hard against his eyes, Dipper wept out all his anguish, until at last all he felt was the empty cold at the end. He sniffled a great deal, blindly reaching for paper towels to clear up his agony. It was an annoying process of batting at the wall without looking up to aid in the search, until he heard one pulled from its resting place and felt it in his hand.

"Yeesh, kid. That was quite a girly little cry. Feel better now?"

"Bill?"

"Yep." the demon replied, seemingly with a great deal of joy in his wicked little heart. He waved the paper towel in Dipper's face. "Here, take it. You were way off, they're on the opposite wall."

"What are you doing here, you rotten little bastard…"

"Wow. Know what? Ow. That hurt. No, wait, no it didn't." He admitted with a chuckle. I can't lie to you, kid. Actually, I'm here to show you something. Look in the mirror."

"Fine." Dipper replied, gripping the paper towel viciously and wiping up his tears. "Already lost everything today. The fuck is another awful trick gonna' do?"

"Trust me, this is something you'll wanna see."

Dipper stood grumpily and crossed the two foot space between the toilet and sink, looking into its murky surface. With a snap of his little digits, Bill washed out the image of Dipper, replacing it with a view of Pacifica's hospital room, as though through a window. He watched as Preston and Francis Mangels entered the room and set to conversing, though he gasped when Northwest leaned over and looked at the mirror, dead into Dipper's eyes.

"Whoa! Can they…?"

"Nah, he saw me moving a little while I spied on them." Bill answered. "Oh! Pay attention here! This part is important!"

"Wait." Preston murmured as he grabbed Francis by the arm. "There's another matter. A tad more desperate…"

He leaned in closer to his confidant. "I need you to get to work on termination of parental rights. I'm officially removing this troublesome girl from my line."

"Preston, that's…! Are you sure about this?"

"I am…"

"Preston." Francis seemed to be bargaining with him. "You cannot disown your daughter. It'll destroy your reputation."

"I really doubt that." Preston replied casually. "Now, will you do this? Or do I have to find someone who will?"

The image faded away, leaving behind a view of Dipper tearing up with renewed vigor.

"He's… he's disowning her?"

"Yep." Bill answered coldly, filing his imaginary nails. "Seems he doesn't wanna' invest in building his kid again. I guess he'd rather start from scratch, or something. That's a bitch, isn't it?"

Dipper sat again, running his hands through his hair while staring at the worn out floor with a renewed feeling of complete loss.

"What's going to happen to her…?"

"Mmm, probably psych ward after psych ward. Of course, we both know they won't fix what happened to her… but, uh, maybe you can."

Dipper remained silent, but he was listening, at least part of him anyway. Drifting in close, Bill prodded Dipper's head and continued.

"If you traded something for it, I could probably restore Pacifica's memories. All I need is… hmm, how does your soul sound? Whaddya' say Pines? I can have her back to normal in no ti—"

"No."

"What?"

"I… I don't want that anymore. I can't do this." Dipper lifted his head, eyes filled with anguish, and something else, something bitter and smoky. Hatred. "I can't keep feeling this way with her. I don't want her memories back. I want to never have met her again. Can you do that?"

"Oooo, look at you." Bill mocked. "But no, I can't. In exchange for your soul? No, I can't do that. That'd screw up the timeline, make a paradox. Worse than that? I wouldn't get your soul."

"A paradox."

"Yeah, you know, an event where mutually exclusive events coexist."

"So what you're saying is I need a paradox-free wish." Dipper's eyes narrowed a bit, taking the demon by surprise.

"Yeah."

"I know where to get one of those." Dipper whispered as he rose to his feet, a devious look in his weary eyes. "I'll give you my soul, Bill Cipher. In exchange for a meeting with the Time Anomaly Removal Crew."

Dipper offered his hand to Bill, who glanced at it nervously. This was a golden opportunity, to be sure. The Pines family had long thwarted his plans and efforts, and Dipper was likely to be the next in a woefully long line of interlopers. Plucking this thread now could prove… wonderful. But if this worked, a Time Wish was what Dipper would get. Dangerous things, those wishes.

"What's wrong, Bill?" Dipper asked, casting an icy glare. "Isn't this what you wanted anyway?"

"Yes it is!" Bill hissed and took the boy's hand, which came alive with blue-green flames.

"Good." Dipper answered. "Now, take me to Blendin Blenjamin Blandin!"

The fire spread between the two of them, devouring the impish triangle and the boy alike and vanishing in a silent instant. All that remained was Dipper's hat, and a loud knocking at the door.

"Dipper." Mabel called to him. "Dipper, are you alright in there!? Someone get this door open please!"

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

They were gone. Miles gone. They reappeared together somewhere dry and sunny and brown, thousands of miles away from Oregon. Dropping through the blind infinities, Dipper screamed nearly constantly until landing face down on the dusty ground outside a large, square building made almost entirely of cinder blocks. He coughed a bit as he climbed slowly to his feet, the wind squarely knocked out of him.

"That was…" Dipper muttered between coughing. "That was awful…"

"Pfft, says you, Pine Tree."

"Alright. Where are we?"

"Tijuana, Mexico. Sorta'. Kinda'. Fifty miles south."

"Well." Dipper said with a scowl. "Where is he?"

"He'll be here, sport. Just be patient."

A dry breeze picked up, sending a lonely tumbleweed bounding past Dipper as he scanned the desert in disbelief. Why was there even a building out here? There was nothing else for miles. Certainly no time police.

"Bill, where is he!?"

"Three, two, one…"

A flash of bright light nearly blinded him, but Dipper managed to spy a hole opening up out of thin air, a swirling disc of green and white through which came a strangely dressed man, as time travelers go. He stood tall, over six feet, wearing a black suit and stove top hat that, as far as Dipper could tell, belonged to a man two-hundred years ago. When he saw the man's bearded face, his jaw dropped.

"What in the he—!?"

"Get him! He can't escape again!"

Four officers of a much more familiar sort marched through the portal before it closed, drawing their weapons and firing noisy bolts of deadly plasma at their quarry, who despite his size was nimble enough to roll aside in the dusty terrain and keep himself from being cooked alive. The anachronistic enemy of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squad merely mocked the efforts of his pursuers.

"Four fools! You'll need scores more practice if you hope to catch me!"

The hat-wearing stranger returned fire with his own weapon before turning and pointing a strange device at the wall of the abandoned building, issuing a bright flash much as before and leaving a new portal in time and space for him to leap through.

"After him!" An officer shouted before they filed into the hole. It closed noiselessly, leaving only confusion behind.

"What the hell was that!?" Dipper finally asked.

"Heh heh, neat right? That was Time Lincoln." Bill answered with a chuckle. "Kind of a living time anomaly. Keeps those chumps busy forever. The result of a Time Wish from a bored super villain in the distant future. Oh, oh, here we go."

Another flash of light filled the air, though this time there was no portal; only a chubby, bland little man with a very small, albeit not unattractive, patch of hair. Blendin Blandin, at long last. The portly temporal janitor hummed quietly to himself as he approached the spot where Time Lincoln had rolled through the dirt whilst avoiding arrest. He bent over and plucked up a cuff link from the dust, dropping the minute item into a plastic bag which tucked into his back pocket.

"Cataloguing anomalous item." Blendin's loud and obnoxious voice echoed out. "Time Lincoln's left cuff link. Closed. Returning to base."

"Blendin!"

"What? Who's there! You'd better identify yourself." Blandin shouted as he wheeled about. "Or-or-or-or-or I-I'll…! Wait… Dipper Pines?"

The male Pines stood stark against the desert behind him, tired and angry looking, and he approached the apprehensive agent of the future while wearing his saltiness on his sleeve. He stopped only a few steps away.

"Been a long time, Blendin." Dipper said at last.

"For you maybe." He replied. "It's only been a week since I last saw you. What are you even doing here? Thi-thi-this isn't supposed to happen!"

"I need a favor Blendin. I need you to take me to future. I—"

"No, no, that's not happening." Blendin half-shouted. "I just said you aren't supposed to be here! This is breach of the timeline!"

"He's trying to issue a challenge of Globnar."

Bill entered the scene with a bored expression, looking Blendin eye to eye as the time agent shook in disbelief.

"Oh no." Blendin's teeth chattered. "That's—! What have you done!?"

"I did what I had to do." Dipper said solemnly. "Now do what you have to do. I'm declaring Globnar."


	10. Sea of Time - 6 (NSFW)

**NSFW warning.**

* * *

· · ·

First there's the sight. Bleak. Cold. Dark. The neon that seems to pulse from everything reflects from the chrome that entraps everything else forever, only until the light strikes hard against the black, cloudy sky above. And then there's the sound; the hum of infinite power coursing through the streets and walls, and the blood-thirsty growl of a rabble of thousands of voices. It was still unsettling, three long years later.

"Guess we made it." Dipper said mostly to himself, his quiet comment drowned out by the innumerable noises around him. Standing ringside with Blendin to his left and Bill drifting casually over his shoulder, the boy Pines sighed and looked out across the Globnar Arena; the tragically familiar sight of dozens of fools and prisoners from across time-space lay there before him, each fighting almost without end against each other. Beyond that? The abstract arbiter of the future: the Time Baby.

"Blendin. Blendin!" Dipper shouted angrily. "Take me down now!"

"I will—! It's just… uhm, I-I-I don't really know how to explain this…" He scratched nervously at his arms. "There's a chance that Time Baby will just destroy you. You see, i-i-it's only been a week since you were last here, and got a Time Wish."

"Wha..? Oh, right." Dipper sighed again. "time travel. Man… I hate time travel."

"So, maybe, you know, we just cancel the challenge…?" Blendin offered sheepishly, hand already drawing his time travel device.

"No way, Blandin." Bill interjected with a jab of his cane. "Pines dug deep and paid dearly for this. Am I right kid?"

Dipper leaned against the rail, grinding his teeth and thinking ill of the demon for neglecting to bring this information to light. It was deeply spoiling to his plan that he might not even get the chance to compete.

"Did you know about this, Bill?"

"Not really relevant, is it? I mean, you could perish in Globnar anyway." Bill whispered into Dipper's mind, drifting in close with a questioning look. "Unless you were planning on cheating…?"

"Blendin." Dipper near-shouted. "Take me down. I have to try."

His time-warden wore a pleading look, as if Blendin were burdened with the knowledge of how this endeavor was already doomed to failure. His mouth was opened, lips twisted in a failing attempt to voice an urgent message against this course. Neither was heeded, so this time, Blendin sighed, slumping a bit as he walked and guided Dipper away from the view of the arena. He led the boy to a large gunmetal colored panel, which slowly opened to the sides to reveal a large, white room. When the pair crossed the threshold into this sterile space, the doors slid shut once more. Bill watched them disappear, those stupid bags of flesh, thinking deep, silent thoughts best left unimagined. To this very moment, the fiend could only guess what Dipper was playing at; he didn't flinch in the least when Bill probed him with that last question. But he couldn't shake a feeling lurking within… even when he looked out into the arena to watch Blendin and Dipper walk out onto the field, Bill suspected this hat still had a rabbit in it.

"Hey kid, y-you know that guy is a demon, right?" Blendin asked timidly as they crossed the arena.

"Yeah. I know. We have history… I'm kinda' shocked you don't know that, Blendin."

"I don't know everything. And I'm just trying to say that, you know, maybe this is a bad idea, and he knows it."

"High risk strategy, Blendin." Dipper responded coolly. "High risk, high reward."

"I hope it's worth it."

"What's it matter? If I win, I won't hurt anymore, if I lose I'll be dead, and have worse things to worry about."

"I guess." Blendin offered after a momentary silence. "I guess that makes it worth it…"

They stood before him now, the behemoth, the god of the future until something worse said otherwise. Still nursing his goliath bottle, nearly emptied of its fluid mass of cosmic formula. Watching the swirling liquid disappear from the transparent container moment by moment proved hypnotic, and Dipper took to daydreaming at that moment. It made him realize he was tired beyond reckoning… how long the day had been, how deep those awful valleys. And then the thought of Pacifica Northwest flitted through his brain. A spike of anger stirred him into waking as the last of the star stuff vanished into the Time Baby's gullet. A hapless mechanical drone pulled, or rather attempted to pull, the empty vessel away from the temporal infant. It was rewarded with a devastating swat from the giant child, sending the machine to the ground in a ruinous flash. And then Time Baby regarded those before him.

"What is this?" He bellowed without hardly trying. "Dipper Pines. Why are you here again, so soon? Explain!"

That last bit… the power carried through Time Baby's voice felt as though it shuddered the entire world, a feeling that a temporarily deaf Dipper and the now entirely silent arena shared. The boy took to rubbing his ears, hoping the ringing would stop soon. Blendin elbowed him in his side gently, prodding him to answer. Dipper looked up, seeing the expectant gaze of the outsider fixed upon him. The eyes continued to demand of him his answer.

"I'm… I declare Globnar."

He tried to stand tall, and he tried to speak with authority. Both seemed ineffective. The giant merely stared Dipper down with his huge, unblinking eyes, as if he were a bug, as if Time Baby itself were a magnifying glass for all the fury of the universe. At this moment, Dipper felt crush-worthy. The audience sat silently, watching and waiting and amplifying the painful glare of the future's master.

"Unprecedented." Time Baby began, his words echoing through bone as easily as air, shaking Blendin and Dipper head to toe.

"Time Baby." Blendin spoke loudly, despite being obviously intimidated. "I-I think maybe you should…"

"Silence, Blandin! No survivor of Globnar has attempted so swiftly to obtain another Time Wish, and no winner has ever lived through a second. However, precedent is not a reason to deny your challenge. Name your challenger, and face them in epic battle!"

In an instant, the roar of the crowd filled the void, an affirmation made unsettling by the knowledge that these barbarians wanted to see a teenage boy live or die. Dipper scanned the stadium seats, watching the rabble jostle and as it did cheer him on; he paused when he caught a glimpse of Bill Cipher still lurking in the stands. The very sight of him… it made Dipper grind his teeth.

"This'll be worth it." He told himself in between bitter thoughts. And then at great length, he spoke his mind. "Pacifica Northwest!"

The hidden screens across the whole of the arena unfolded from thin lines of plasma that began as nothingness, stretching into huge blue rectangles that occupied the space in the air all around. One by one, the screens were occupied by one or another image of the debutant, displaying all manner of events in her life, from her birth to her present state. It damn near broke his heart to see it, but Dipper watched just the same as her most recent iteration sat in a wheelchair opposite a well-meaning but ill-equipped rehabilitation technician who was trying her hardest to engage the broken minded girl.

Biting his lip, Dipper gestured to that version; the image of the hospital was spread to every screen, and in time a pair of TPAES agents joined Pacifica and the rehab tech in the room they were in. The audience watched in rapt attention as the worker was incapacitated and the girl was wheeled off screen. No sooner had she vanished, the screens closing into barely perceptible lines of static, did she appear across from Dipper on the arena floor. The agents that retrieved her wheeled Pacifica foot by foot toward him as Blendin leaned in close.

"You challenged a disabled teenage girl to Globnar?"

"You challenged two twelve year olds because they outsmarted you." Dipper responded through gritted teeth.

"Ah, hmm, fair enough, I suppose." The temporal maintenance man muttered, though he didn't really believe it. The future was a mean-spirited place, full to the brim with failure and inequity. This Globnar, though, would prove ridiculous and foul, he was sure. Blendin spoke again before departing. "Just don't hurt her, I guess."

When she was near enough, Dipper silently approached his opponent and one-time lover, regarding every inch of her that he could. Her skin was drawn and pale, her hair had lost all of its luster, her eyes were dull from sleepless nights and haphazard crying. Pacifica looked physically shattered, dragged to the edge of her life by Bill's villainy. Dipper's eyes welled up, and for a moment he thought about just reaching out and touching her. Maybe just her hand or her cheek? Just one last time wouldn't hurt, right? As his hand inched forward through the air, though, he spied tears running down the girl's cheeks, and an audible whimper soon followed. He recoiled instantly, and turned his back on her to address the event's judge. Bill, meanwhile, observed the short exchange with great interest, scratching his metaphysical surface as he stared on.

"Time Baby." Dipper called out, drawing the monstrous infant's attention as he happily flailed his arms toward a new bottle of stellar formula. "Since Pacifica is, well." Dipper glanced at the wheelchair bound girl a moment, taking a moment to wipe away any tears forming in his eyes. "Since she can't provide much sport… can we limit this Globnar to a single challenge?"

Bill's eye narrowed; that's what the boy was up to. He was cheating after all, that devious little brat! It made the imp feel rather warm inside. With a chuckle, he vanished from view.

"Yet another unprecedented request, Dipper Pines!" Time Baby answered, frustrated that his meal was hovering just out of range. With a savage growl, he issued two violet beams of radiant light from his eyes, destroying yet another drone and letting the bottle fall into his hulking but proportionately tiny hands. "But you raise a point. What good is this for my entertainment? We shall get this over with! A single challenge!"

The whole of the arena metamorphosed into an array of ramps and platforms in a violent flurry of noise and motion. After a moment of chaos, the floors and walls of the stage were set, and a series of athletic challenges lay before Dipper and Pacifica, the golden glow of the Time Wish floating at the far side of the American Gladiator-esque aerial maze. At its entrance ramp sat two ethereal weapon racks, laid opposite each other with only a single quarterstaff to the apparatus.

"For crying out loud…" Dipper thought as he looked across the arena. "I guess I deserve this."

"Let this rarest of times, the single-challenge Globnar, begin!"

A response flickered in the crowd, but nothing compared to the rabble's last few rounds of applause, and in truth, Dipper felt disgusted with himself, and the sickening sensation in his gut was only intensified by the probability that the thousands watching on were despising him on equal terms.

"Let's just get this over with then…"

Each step he took toward the ramp ahead had to it a barely audible, muted thud, a sound Dipper was sure only he could hear. As he reached the pair of weapon racks, he realized it wasn't his feet, but the sound of his pulse in his ears; he was gripped with anxiety.

"What's wrong, man?" He asked himself angrily. "You got this in the bag. You got this. But maybe just in case."

He followed his instincts, approaching one of the two quarterstaves and wrapping his fingers around it. It felt warm despite lack of use, and its surface caused his skin to tingle with a faint electricity; it was probably fitting, since the object was bright purple. With a jerk it was in his hands, and the boy resumed his trek up the ramp as the ring top screens reappeared, showing Dipper from every angle in case he was too imperceptible.

"Enjoy the show, you assholes…"

Dipper reached the top of the first ramp and surveyed the terrain ahead. From this vantage point, the area didn't look nearly so difficult to navigate: sure, a number of platforms floated in the air, and several walls and partitions looked like they blocked off easy advancement, but even from here Dipper could see other ramps that led back to the course in case he mismanaged his jumps.

Speaking of, the first of his leaps lay directly in front of him. It wasn't too wide a gap, maybe five feet, but maybe Dipper was far from athletic enough to make it. Screw it, no risk, no reward. He took a running start, springing from as close to the edge as he dared to get, and sailed through the air. He landed with a thud on the top of a pillar which sat in the middle of a shallow valley, pausing only long enough to reassure himself that he could do this again, no problem. Yeah… no problem. A second running jump landed Dipper on the far side of the valley, safe on another extended platform connected to a ramp.

He stopped again now, this time because the audience seemed… enthralled, was a word for it. They gasped, shouted, laughed, clapped, all the things one would expect of a mixed bag of excited observers. Scanning the crowd and the screens, Dipper couldn't imagine what they were gripped with… until his peripheral vision caught movement on one of the huge rectangles.

"What the…?" He turned around in time to see an assailant coming down nearly on top of him, bringing a vivid quarterstaff down to his skull. Dipper reflexively dropped to one knee and raised his own weapon, blocking the hard attack and shuddering from its force. He had closed his eyes, and in opening them saw a familiar face and golden mane. "No."

"Yes." Pacifica answered with a twisted grin and a voice that definitely wasn't her own. Her mouth opened in an insidious cackle. "I had you all wrong, kid! I always figured you for a straight shooter, you know? But look at you now!"

"Bill! Get out of her body!"

"Fat chance, shrimp." Bill hissed through gritted teeth. "I don't really care how you were gonna' word it, but I figure you were gonna' use that wish to make yourself feel better about your girlfriend bein' all broken. But…"

Pacifica's body pivoted violently and the staff swung around hard, snagging Dipper by the arm with a nasty, hard blow. He yelped and rolled a couple feet away, stopping just short of dropping off into another gap in the floor. Rubbing his aching tricep, the boy regarded this new problem with hateful eyes.

"I'm thinking I want that wish for myself, Pinetree. It'd help me fix a lot of the grief your family's caused me, ya know? Of course… I could just wish that they all died, couldn't I?"

"Don't even think about-!"

"Too late." Bill shouted before laughing sharply again, prodding Dipper in the gut with the staff before nudging him over the side. He fell to the ground with a loud yelp, and groaned out his pain as he rolled on the ground. Leering at him with Pacifica's weary features from the platform's edge, Cipher cocked her head and went along the path toward the wish.

Dipper slowly climbed to his feet and looked up in time to see Pacifica gracefully run on her way. "Damn you, Bill Cipher…"

He went to the nearest ramp and took to hot pursuit, no longer able to hear his own heartbeat over the roar of the crowd. They had their show at last, two teenagers running and jumping and taking brief swings at each other in the brief moments when Dipper was gaining on Bill, most ending in the Pines boy being sent unceremoniously to the floor. Mere minutes in, Dipper already felt battered to bits, but through the pain and frustration still found momentum to spare. Climbing out of yet another pit, he spat out a bit of blood that had pooled in his mouth after Bill had busted his chops.

Bill, meanwhile, was growing close to the Time Wish where it lay in wait; Pacifica's lithe form had performed well in the maze, landing him on the last stretch to the object of his utmost desire.

"Too easy. Geez, can't even get a break when you have the whole thing planned, eh kid?"

Pacifica was turned to look back and gloat at her opponent, a move that turned out to be a mistake as Dipper had closed in on her. With a loud growl, he tackled her body to the ground and started wrestling with her to the best of his ability.

"I won't let you do this! You rotten little monster!"

"Grah! Give it up, Pines!" Bill kicked out hard, catching Dipper in the gut and sending him to the floor. Pacifica stood again, her face contorted in a deep rage. "You don't get it! You filthy grub, I've already won!"

Swinging the quarterstaff around in a low arc, Bill aimed for the boy's groin as he started to rise to his feet, missing as Dipper pivoted away from harm; he responded in kind, jabbing his own staff forward and catching Pacifica in the knee, sending her down with a shocking blow. He attempted to follow up, but was caught off guard…

"Dipper, wait!"

It was her voice. It couldn't be… but it wasn't anyone else. And wait he did, for a critical moment. Pacifica swung out again, catching Dipper's knee from the side. He crumpled hard as she stood again.

"Idiot." Bill scoffed as he stood over his hated foe. He took a moment to bring Pacifica's heel down hard on the jilted knee, making Dipper scream in agony before being jabbed in the chest repeatedly. "Stupid little worm! Who do you think you are!?"

Bill stomped and bludgeoned savagely for several moments, striking at every part of Dipper's body he could reach as the boy tried to protect himself. After a minute of this abuse, Bill finally paused and took to heavy breathing, watching with dissatisfaction as Dipper rolled on the floor in pain, coughing up blood every few seconds.

"There… I think you've had enough."

His head was spinning now, thanks to one or two hits to the skull; through blurred vision and ringing ears, though, Dipper could see Pacifica's body limping away from him, slowed down by a wounded knee. And beyond her, the golden orb he had traded his soul to reach. It's just right there.

"Get up." He whispered. "All you have to do is get up. Get up."

And he did this, somehow, though it was an awful process filled with popping joints and ragged coughing. Propped up only by his weapon and his tenacity, Dipper staggered forward heavily. His gasps and shuffling caught Bill's ear, who turned to see the kid wasn't too far away. His injuries were worse, but somehow Dipper was able to outpace Pacifica's body. But Bill still had the advantage of not needing his staff as a walking stick; he raised it and prodded Dipper in the chest as he drew near, holding him at a little more than arm's length.

"What are you doing, kid…? Just stay down!"

He struck Dipper on the shoulder, dropping him to his knees before planting a mean snap kick on his chin. Knocked to his back and bleeding profusely from his busted lips, Dipper coughed again, rolling to his side.

"Just stay down. This isn't even fun anymore. Yeesh."

Turning to leave once more, Bill grunted in frustration and took his first step, only to feel a tight grip on Pacifica's ankle before falling to the ground. He turned to look back angrily at Dipper, who had slunk forward enough to reach her leg. Bill kicked the digits that bound him away, crawling to her knees and gripping the staff again.

"Quit or die, I don't care! But you can't win!" Bill shouted with all of his might.

"Yeah, well, call me crazy, but I figure—" Dipper coughed again, spitting more blood to the ground as he painstakingly stood for one more bout. "I figure if I can't beat you… I'll just have to fight forever."

"That's stupid. I'm immortal!"

Bill lunged forward, staff aimed Dipper's head and finding the mark. It cracked down loudly, though this time Dipper held fast, literally, as his hand gripped the end of the staff that had struck him. Blood poured down over his forehead, but his grasp stayed firm, even when Bill tried hard to pull the weapon away.

"Argh! Let go Pines!"

"You're the boss, Bill." Dipper whispered as he swung his quarterstaff out from beneath his weight. It caught Pacifica in the side, pushing her body with extreme force as he collapsed. She stumbled, wobbling on a wounded knee dangerously close to the edge before tipping back and falling to the ground ten feet below.

Bill coughed and whimpered, not used to the sensation of having the wind knocked out of whatever lungs he happened to be hijacking at the time of his demonic mischief. When his senses finally came back to him, he heard the familiar shuffling of Dipper's feet and the tap of the staff on the platform above. He struggled to get back up, to do more than just crumple to the ground. At last, he just growled and pounded her tiny fists on the ground.

"No! Come on! I was so close!"

Only moments later, Dipper halted his movement, pausing to breathe through bruised and maybe broken ribs. But in lifting his head again, he smirked and reached out, brushing his fingers against the surface of the Time Wish.

"It is done!"

The arena began to fold away, the platforms sinking into the floor with thunderous booms while the crowd cheered louder than anything that could ever be. When the rumbling finally stopped, Dipper found himself without the support of his staff and stumbled to the ground, still clutching the golden orb he had claimed through blood and anguish. Even as he lay in near ruin, Dipper couldn't help but laugh. Tears of joy joined the blood that stained his cheeks, running down from his weary eyes as he sat up to take stock of the victory. Pacifica's body lay limply next to him, left abandoned by Cipher after having lost. The demon drifted a few yards away, arms crossed in disappointment and watching as Dipper smirked and patted the wish in his arms.

"The Globnar is finished! Rise, Dipper Pines." Time Baby bellowed in what could be satisfaction, but one couldn't truly tell. "What is it that you wish for?"

"Before I make my wish, I decide what happens to the loser, right?"

"Correct."

"I grant Pacifica life, and ask that all her stolen memories are restored to her."

Time Baby merely tilted his head toward Pacifica's unconscious form, and her body became instantly spastic with electricity as she was jolted into waking. She gasped for a minute, scanning the insane space she found herself in. At length, she did speak.

"Wh-what!? What is it this!? Dipper?"

He was wheezing as he sat, but he still managed to turn his head back and look at Pacifica when she said his name. Maybe it was the injuries, but he looked rather bitter, taking the girl by surprise. Bill materialized close to the both of them, eye glowing with angry confusion.

"What's the deal, Pines? Make your wish already! Wish you never met her, or whatever it was you said!"

"What?" Pacifica whispered.

"Nah." Dipper answered with a smirk. "I don't think so. It's a paradox-free Time Wish, after all. I can have anything I want. I can have everything."

"No you can't!" Bill shouted cruelly. "You have to lose something!"

"No, Bill. This time, you lose everything."

"Don't you dare…"

"I wish," Dipper said loudly in front of everyone, every screen displaying him making a fool of the sentient shape from Hell. "that my soul was returned! That Bill Cipher never plagued my family ever again! And… well, I guess that I didn't feel like I was broken from the shins up. Yeah."

With those words, the bubble that made up the wish's real world form decayed, and the space all around Dipper was flooded with golden light and a gentle hum. When the glow faded into nothing, the triumphant teenager slowly stood. His face was still smeared in blood and sweat, but by the way he casually dusted himself off, the wish had been happily granted. The smirk that played across Dipper's face faded when he looked at Bill once more, boiling red with pulsing anger.

"You! You!"

Near instantly, Bill's tiny form exploded into a truly vast one, and he swung his fist down toward the Pines boy with all his fury. It stopped a yard from his head, held shuddering in the air by forces unseen. For his part, Bill only roared in outrage.

"Damn you, Pines!" He bellowed as he clenched his massive hands. "Damn you! I'll get you, somehow! All of you! All of you!"

He disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind a stunned audience, a frightened Pacifica, and an exhausted, but relieved, Dipper. He walked to her where she was crouched, shaking from the shock of waking up anywhere but where her mind could think of. He took her by the hand and guided her to standing, pulling Pacifica in close for a tight hug, laughing and crying at the same time. Footsteps behind him alerted Dipper to Blendin's presence, who stood nodding and smiling in an impressed fashion.

"That…" He said with full confidence. "…was an excellent Time Wish."

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

It was still the middle of the afternoon, and the Mystery Shack remained locked up and empty. Or rather, nearly empty. Careful listening near the property revealed that the water was running in the upstairs bathroom, the shower set to pump a soothing stream down onto those who needed more than anything the relief of the steaming vat. Dipper undressed himself with great patience, some of his clothing sticking to his skin where the blood had dried underneath. He found himself grateful that he'd amended the wish at the last minute to repair his damages; Bill had really done a number on him through that whole ordeal. Once naked, he regarded all the various splotches on his torso and limbs, the dozen or so places where the wounds had previously existed. It was good to be good again, he thought as he pulled away the shower curtain and slipped into the steam. It felt immediately relieving, and for many moments he only stood still and thought about the sensation.

"Hey Dipper."

"Pacifica!" Shocked from his musing, Dipper gasped and wheeled about. She remained beyond his vision, obscured by the curtain. "Jeez, you snuck up on me."

"Sorry."

"You okay?" He asked only because she seemed disjointed in her speech.

"Actually." She said quietly. "I was going to ask you the same thing. You looked pretty bad, you know? And your clothes are…"

"I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She started to weep, quietly with her hands over her eyes. "I didn't want you to get hurt. You got hurt because of me, didn't you?"

"I don't look at it that way…"

"Is there another way to look at it? The whole story is just… you wouldn't have had to do any of that if it wasn't for me."

"Pacifica." He said as he half drew the curtain back. She sat on the toilet in defeat. Reaching for a towel and covering himself, he emerged from the shower only barely soaked, crouching in front of her and taking her face in his hands. "Pacifica… I got hurt because of Bill. And your dad. But I didn't care. And I made myself go through it because of you…"

He leaned in close and kissed her gently, meeting her soft lips earnestly for good long while before breaking away and touching his forehead to hers. Set so close to each other, Dipper looked into Pacifica's eyes, and in that moment she smiled.

"Because I…"

"Because you love me."

She kissed him back, leaning into him and catching him off guard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight as her lips pressed against his three, four, five times. Afterwards, she returned her forehead to his, though she chose to look down at his glistening, damp body instead of his eyes. The sight of his bare chest made her heart flutter, and the blood stains, though, unsettling, gave her reason to smirk.

"Hey." She offered as she stared. "Let me help you clean up."

It wasn't long before the pair were in the shower, pressed against each other in a heated embrace. True to her word, Pacifica ran her soap covered hands over the entirety of Dipper's torso, taking many a moment to smear her breasts over those slick surfaces as well. It often left him breathless to feel her body pressed softly against his, though he didn't care much to breathe except between bouts of deep, passionate kissing. And needless to say, his erection was as difficult to ignore as he could ever remember; it slipped happily between their abdomens anytime they were wrapped up in each other's arms, which proved to be a near constant state.

For her part, Pacifica was lost in a haze. Every time they swiveled their tongues together she would mewl in delight, and every second Dipper's manhood spent pressed against her stomach her blood boiled until she moaned into his throat. At long last she broke from his embrace, turning away and leaning over the far edge of the tub, keeping herself steady over the faucets. She looked back at his member, then into his eyes, water splashing down over her buttocks, inviting him as much as her glassy gaze.

Dipper put his hands to her hips and leaned in close, pushing his cockhead against Pacifica's slick nether lips, making them both gasp. He pushed forward, sliding away from his mark, backing up to line up again. Before his second attempt, though, he felt Pacifica's fingers on his member, squeezing it slightly and making him whimper as she guided it where she desperately needed him to go. She wedged into her vulva, sighing happily before pushing her hips back to meet his slow first thrust. In that single thrust he was buried to the hilt, making the girl moan in ecstasy. Dipper's cock throbbed as she squeezed it with her canal, and he only moved it once the throbbing stopped.

They fucked slowly, happily, and loudly. Each thrust proudly echoed through the bathroom with the slap of wet skin on skin and constant vocalizations of lust. The position was an exhausting one, though: Pacifica's knees buckled beneath her as her strength gave out. Dipper went down with her, ignoring the pain of crashing into the the bathtub floor, not losing pace, not losing a single moment of driving his cock into her body. His every thrust made him shudder just as the made her groans louder. This enticed him to go faster, faster, faster until his body could no longer keep pace with the demands of his sex addled mind.

"O-oh god! Dipper!"

"Pacifi-!"

Caught off guard by his own spasms, Dipper let his body fall forward so that his chest pressed against her back. He growled as he fell into sudden orgasm, loud enough that it shocked him, as his cock pulsed and erupted deep inside Pacifica's clutching pussy. The second the raging hot liquid struck her insides, her toes curled and she lurched forward in a silent scream, her own body wracked with a sudden surge in rapture. He kept thrusting into her even as his load was spent, enjoying the jolts it gave his body to rub his still hard member inside of her.

"A-ah! Ah, Dipper! S-stop that! Too sensitive!"

His hips finally stopped, Dipper shuddered violently as he remained pressed against his lover's body. He found his arms wrapped around her waist, holding him steady, but soon realized that meant Pacifica was bearing his weight. He leaned back, anchoring his body with the solidity of the tub and slowly withdrawing himself from her flooded womanhood.

"Wait." She whispered with a spasm. Between heavy breaths, he could hear Pacifica mewl and see a corner of her smile. "Just… wait a minute. I want to remember the feeling."

They remained in the shower for several minutes, both roughly brought to their knees, both completely okay with that.

 **· · ·**

* * *

 **· · ·**

Dipper paced the attic, cell phone in hand, head full of thoughts both overjoyed and guilty. Now that the dust was starting to settle, he realized that he'd left his sister and great uncle holding the bag at the roadside diner almost two hours ago. They had to be worried sick. His phone had registered a number of missed calls now, which only made him more nervous. A deep breath later, Dipper sighed and pressed the call button, putting the phone to his ear and leaning against the support beam in the center of the room.

"Dipper!? Dipper, is that you!?"

"Hey Mabel…"

"Gruncle Stan, I got him! Dipper, where hell are you!?"

"Yeah, I'm doing good." He said with a chuckle. "Don't worry, I'm-."

"Don't laugh, you idiot! We were worried sick! We called the cops and everything!" She was audibly crying, probably had been all afternoon.

"I'm sorry. It's complicated."

"Complicated!? I was freaking out so bad! What was I supposed to tell mom and dad?"

"What did you tell them, Mabel?"

"Nothing yet." She said with a loud sniffle. "Where… where are you?"

"I'm at the Mystery Shack.

"What? He said he's at the Shack. Dipper, that's like, four hours from the diner!"

"Don't worry about that." He said coolly. "I'll tell you about that when you get home. I'm safe. And Pacifica's safe."

"What do you mean?"

"I got her back, Mabel." He answered, nearly bursting into tears himself. "I'm at the Mystery Shack, and I got Pacifica back."

Pacifica had found her way to the kitchen, in the meantime, lost in search for an item of great import. She was sure she had left it here yesterday, or what felt like yesterday, or the day before… for the life of her she couldn't make heads or tails of the timeline. But she was sure it was still here. None of the other rooms had yielded the location of her purse, so the kitchen had to be it.

"Where is…? Seriously, I need you now! Ah, ah, there you are."

It sat next to a loaf of bread on the counter, tossed haphazardly there, most likely by the Pines or their goofy maintenance man when they came home. In mere seconds Pacifica was wrist deep in the designer handbag, digging greedily through its contents as if there were an infinite selection of objects she couldn't care less about. At last, though, she found it. She plucked free from the assortment the little plastic clam shell she knew she needed, opening it up and scanning over the circular rows of birth control pills that lay in their transparent confines. And there, where the sealed pills bordered with the empty cells… one missed day.

"Oh… oh hell…"

She slumped against the countertop a moment, doing quick math in the split seconds her fractious mind would grant her between waves of panic. Maybe letting her hormones do the thinking for her was a bad idea… although, she was more than reasonably sure this was a safe day. She admittedly hated menstruation math, especially when her birth control pills were involved.

"It'll be fine, Pacifica." She whispered. "You're on a safe day. Just take your pill and move on."

She put her thumb against the cell of her missed day, but she paused when a thought flashed through her mind. Pacifica, briefly, recalled being in a hospital bed, just today, and hearing her father talking about her. She remembered his words exactly, in fact.

"I need you to get to work on termination of parental rights. I'm officially removing this troublesome girl from my line."

"Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch."

So heartless… that's all she could think of it, that whole ordeal. So heartless and evil. Looking at her pills again, Pacifica thought boldly to herself. She could do a much better job. She and Dipper could do a much better job than her evil, vindictive parents. She had two hundred thousand dollars set aside that they could pull out and lean on.

"So what if we're fifteen…? Right?" She seemed to be convincing herself as she looked at the pills again and again. "We could do it better. At least we love each other… we'd love the baby…"

She touched her stomach, thinking about it more and more. But… maybe it was just the hormones. Maybe it was just the afterglow, mixed with the desire to avenge herself.

"Dipper, what if her parents come after her again?"

Pacifica's fingers slowly began to close the clam shell. Lifting her head, she glanced at the waste bin at the opposite end of the room. It would be easy, she thought as she strolled slowly toward it.

"Don't worry about it, Mabel. Trust me on that one…"

Standing over the trash can, lid open, waste exposed, pills held over the refuse in a tentative grip, she bit her lip anxiously.

"You promise me you'll tell me everything?"

"I promise, Mabel. It's gonna' be alright."

She let the trash can lid snap shut as she walked back to her purse. Leaning against the counter, Pacifica sighed tiredly and raised her hand. The pill capsule remained in her grip… with a quick pair of motions, she popped it open and snapped a pill from its confines. The clam shell was returned to the purse from which it came, and with quick gulp of water the medicine vanished into her stomach. She turned and left toward the stairs to find her way back to Dipper, deciding they would love each other now, and that that was enough.

Dipper sat on his mattress with his head hanging in exhaustion, but he perked up when he heard Pacifica enter the room.

"Hey, Paz."

"Ah, don't call me… huh."

"What? Should I not call you Paz?"

"Know what? You can call me that." She said quietly as she sat next to him on the bed, pecking his cheek and leaning into his shoulder.

"Am I missing something?"

"Don't worry about it, Dip. That's in the past now. Your family on their way?"

"Yeah." He said with a long stretch. "They'll be a couple hours."

"So we have time?"

"Heh heh, yeah we do."

"Oh thank god."

And in an instant, they were in each other's arms, laid out on the bed. They set their heads to the pillow, sharing it by setting their foreheads against each other's. So intimately were they woven that they didn't think twice about sharing a tender kiss, a mutual sigh of pure bliss, and a single, small mattress neither would trade for anything else in the world right now as they drifted off into sleep.


	11. Sea of Time - 7

It strains the eyes as it stretches on and on forever… a state of being wherein space is truly empty, in total defiance of imagination and the laws of physics. It is the void, the infinite nothing, an impossible thing set adrift within itself forever and for never. Ironically, this is a place that many a strange and terrible improbability calls home, things constructed of abstract nonsense and somehow not in violation of the very nothingness that should define what the void is.

A faint speck of gold is such a thing, hanging in empty space, wrapped in an ethereal babble that, if light were to be anywhere, may be visible from its violent undulations. Drawing closer reveals the speck doesn't sit alone, instead being the center of a whole galaxy of glowing glyphs and images etched from light of the barest blue. Closer, closer… and it's plain to see, this is the realm of balderdash that Bill Cipher, the golden glow in the dark, calls home.

He idly sits alone here, pondering thoughts vast, cool, hopelessly entropic and misanthropic. And sometimes, Bill Cipher likes to float alone in his island in time and play video games from the 1980s, a period he somehow views as the golden age of Earth's entertainment technologies. The liquid crystal screened handheld happily beeps and boops in his tiny, dark hands, despite the lack of atmosphere, or batteries for that matter, engrossing the one-eyed monster through his imprisonment in the Blind Eternities. Beep, boop, beep, boop… and then, game over.

"What?! This game always cheats! Why do I keep spawning the same game?"

With a violent flick of the wrist, the cheap plastic handheld is flung into the undulating cloud of orbiting glyphs, violently crashing into one and bursting into an odd-sized explosion as the shifting rune spins off into deeper darkness. The sulking imp does not dwell long on his loss as another out of place object tumbles closer toward his sphere of influence. Bill seems lost in grim thought until the somersaulting intruder comes within mere inches of his form, until he flicks his wrist once more and stops its hurtling passage. At the cost of its forward momentum, the object was set to violently spinning, carrying on for many minutes from lack of friction.

"Heh, okay then." Bill chuckled before reaching out and catching the object in his tiny fingers. "I think you're warmed up enough."

The spinning stopped immediately, rendering the object much more identifiable. It seemed to be a completely flat, black square, though the black of the two-dimensional shape made real seemed pale in comparison to the infinity it was set against. More important was the humanoid figure in the out of place article; his back was turned to the demon as he stared a moment, and though whoever the man within was inaudible, he seemed to be doubled over in pain or nauseated delirium. A moment passed, but Bill allowed no more time to pass.

"Sick again, eh? Well, sucks to suck, come on now!" Bill spun the square about, catching it with his cane so that the human trapped within rattled about a moment before regaining his balance. "No rest for the wicked, Preston! Your bad dreams await!"

Preston Northwest, looking less than dapper in a ragged suit that looked picked to pieces by tiny sets of tooth and nail, sweaty and pale from his plunge through the void, gasped and heaved within his confines. He stared at Bill with a mixture of probable hatred and dread.

"Aww, Preston… you look like you aren't having any fun at all." Bill jeered with a cheeky waggle of the finger. "I hope you don't feel like you're being ironically punished, or anything. Or cheated! I'd hate to think that you think I cheated you! After all, it's sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petard. Or something like that. You can look it up when you get back to your body."

Preston only snarled in silence, clenching his teeth and fists together in awful anticipation.

"Expecting nightmares already? Hmm… nah. We'll start with something a little more Euclidean."

Cipher's piercing gaze was averted as his eye set to glowing with a ghastly green light. The light issued forth in a series of quiet pulses in front of the pair, drawing together a ring of swirling luminescence. It started slow, but second by second the ring spun about, filling out the empty section within its borders with a wide palette of colors. The colors pooled into shapes and shades, making from nothing an image of a small apartment painted with afternoon sunshine. It was a simple place, defined by dull, off-white paint, cheap linoleum floors, and numerous cardboard boxes stacked atop one another and any furniture items large enough to accommodate them. Though the apartment was clearly in the middle of a state of move-out, it still possessed a faint hint of coziness mixed with an undertone of old-meeting-new that made it slightly appealing. Appealing, and more than a little strange that Bill Cipher would conjure this of all things.

Sound came through the field of imagery first, somehow, the scratching whine of tape being drawn from the roll, stretched over the creaking frame of a cardboard box, and patted down expertly. A soft grunt echoed from beyond the ring's field of view, though moments later Pacifica huffed into view, wearing a dusty green sweatshirt and a pair of jeans deep into the beat-up phase of their life. She was carrying another box from the next room and plopping it atop a stack of two, and the drop of the deceptively heavy load caused the second box of the stack to crimp, and the contents within to audibly crack. Shock played over the young woman's face, and she hurriedly picked the heavy cube up again, setting it aside to investigate the damages.

A young woman… that's what she was now. Preston, pale, haggard, ruined, watched confusedly what Bill had chosen to torture him with tonight: his daughter, maybe seven, eight, nine years older than he last remembered her being. Has it truly been so long? He couldn't even remember anymore, as each time he lied down to rest he was visited by torment and robbed of the solace of a good night's sleep. But this was a first… the first time Bill hadn't resorted to monstrous visions of entropy, the first time Preston felt something besides horror the second he began to dream, and the first time he could remember seeing his only daughter in years. Here she was now, living in some small, single bedroom apartment, dirtying her purebred hands with manual labor. Even if he didn't like the idea of the latter, seeing her at all made him feel…

"Hey, hey." Bill interrupted, snapping his fingers rudely in Preston's face. "None of that. Pay attention, you're here because you deserve to be."

As they watched, Pacifica casually opened up the box she accidentally crushed, and grimaced as she took in the sight of contents. It was once their plates and bowls, and now… well, one or two plates were still unharmed. The bowls, though? No. Not so much. With a sigh, Pacifica taped the box back up, doing her best to smooth out the crimps and creases. Her frustration slowly mounted as the aged cardboard fought her efforts; how they ever managed to close up this survivor of many moves past in the first place was unbelievable. They should've just bought new boxes, she mused to herself with a shaking head. Once it was duly resealed, she swapped the damaged case with the heavy one, placing the broken plate crate atop the stack. Pacifica then drew a sharpie from her back pocket and, smiling wryly, scribbled "FRAGILE" across the crinkled surface.

"Yeah, so… guess it was the movers, right? Meh… I'll just drop it on purpose or something. We'll get more."

After a moment of smiling, Pacifica sighed and strolled off to continue her work. She hummed as she left, and the soft tune had a ring of genuine happiness to it that refused to be ignored. It wasn't long, though, before she was drawn back into the front room by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah, it's me." He muttered as he shuffled ten or twelve envelopes in his hands, plucking important items from the mass and eventually discarding the chaff. He spent a few minutes browsing the remainder. "Mm, can you remind me to call the power guys and shut it off?"

"Already did that for you." Pacifica answered quietly before slipping back into the bedroom.

"Oh? Hmm, okay. Can you remind me to call the internet guys so they can—?"

"Did that too."

"Really? Is there something you missed?" He asked with a smirk.

"Nope. I'm totally ready to get up out of here."

"I can see that." Dipper mused, scanning the room and seeing that, at the very least, another seven full boxes had been packed and added to the collective. She'd already filled the utility closet and now the living room was stuffed with their combined property.

"Did we get anything in the mail besides junk or bills?"

"Hmm." He shuffled through the few items left to him once more. "Nope."

"Nope? Wait, wait. Nope?"

Pacifica returned a moment later with an incredulous expression, peering at Dipper as he fiddled with the envelopes in his hands. His gaze was deliberately diverted from her, and the edges of his mouth were tightened slightly, as though he were hiding something. She smirked then.

"Oh, okay. Well if there's nothing else." Pacifica answered with a shrug as she turned around, sashaying a bit as she strolled into the kitchen. "Then I'll just have to cancel the celebratory sex."

"Aww, what? There was gonna' be celebratory sex?" Dipper followed her, disappointed. "How long was there gonna' be sex?"

"Hmm, a couple weeks, I guess. I was thinking we could finally break in the counters here." She teased, wiggling her hips and showing off her backside as she leaned over the surface, facing away from him. "But, since you haven't done anything reward-worthy…"

He watched a moment from across the room as her body swayed. It reminded him of their first summer, bringing to mind the image of her naked body in the mirror as he took her from behind. With a sigh, and an instantly thought-hampering hard-on, Dipper conceded to her "point".

"Alright, alright, you win. I have one other thing."

She turned and smiled, a sincere grin that made him smile right back before he dipped into his worn out courier bag, tossed casually to the floor by the entrance like every day for the past five years they'd lived in the apartment. Moments later, he procured a large yellow envelope, already previously opened and handed it over when Pacifica clapped her hands and crossed the room. It took all of a second for her to empty the contents: a satisfying endeavor for her, given her long anticipation of this day. The papers within were verbose, to say the least, but as Dipper watched her eyes dart end to end like lightning he knew it wouldn't be long before-

"'Masters in Physics, Congratulations Dipper Pines.' Yes!" she nearly shouted as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him tight. The papers she held poked him gently in the ear, but Dipper couldn't help but smile; today was a good day.

"Congratulations indeed, Mr. Pines." Pacifica said, kissing his cheek and releasing him. She stopped to look back at the paper though. "Wait… you didn't give the college your real name?"

"Meh." was all he could say, although he did add a shrug and a smirk for good measure.

"Oh come on… you aren't going to write 'Dipper Pines' on your job applications are you? I love your real name."

"You never even use my real name!" He answered with a chuckle.

"I do too, like when… huh… shut up!"

She laughed too, reaching in close to pinch his ribs and nudge his shoulder in defiance. He reflexively backed away, still chuckling lightly until he hit the edge of the bulky, faded, squishy sofa that rest behind him, set within a sprawl of carboard boxes. Tilting back over it, Dipper gripped Pacifica by the forearms and tugged her down on top of him. Far from an accident, his lips waited patiently for hers, and it wasn't long before he was gently kissing her while his hands roamed under the back of Pacifica's sweat shirt. She smiled while their lips graced each other's, though she eventually broke the kiss to sit back and start pulling off the baggy green impediment. Only a black sports bra lay beneath, the last line between Dipper and her breasts. That did not last long either.

Bill watched the proceeding with utter disinterest as it escalated ever further, the sounds of young love and young, eager sex diffusing into the nightmare void as he did. Preston, for his part, only looked mortified, although there may also have been a mote or two of shame or disgust. This served much better to capture Bill's eye, and he turned to his prisoner with impish glee.

"What's wrong, buddy? Don't like the show? Oh come on, I know what you're into." Bill laughed and kickstarted the prison-square about a flick of his cane, spinning Preston within for what felt to be a thousand instant revolutions. When he finally stopped, he had the picture perfect look of bitter, green sick.

"Don't make that face, you creep. Pervy, pervy Preston. Heh, hey hey! I have an idea! A great idea!" Bill nearly screamed as he jabbed Preston in the chest with his finger, poking right through the physical barrier of the space the man was sealed in but allowing no egress. "Yeah! I know what'll make you feel better! Let's see what happens in another universe!"

Bill spun his cane again, twisting the ring of light that now displayed Pacifica sprawled on the floor, her face lost in a look of ecstatic highs. The image was replaced with another, a vague mix of light colors on one side and darks on the other. The demon snapped his fingers, and the ring divided into two, allowing the mixed images to be still and reveal the view of another world. To the right, distilling from the brighter colors, Preston watched with dreaded anticipation as Pacifica was revealed; she was dressed well, better than that drab sweat shirt she was wearing in that dirty apartment. She looked to be walking with an entourage of official looking men and women, and as the image sharpened, Preston was briefly relieved to see the dress code was easily corporate formal; they walked along the perimeter of a large, fancy sky scraper before she and the five people with her stepped through the sliding, plate glass doors. In this timeline, it seems, Pacifica had chosen better for herself.

To the left, the dark colors coalesced… the boy was revealed, working tiredly into the night on some incomprehensible project. Stacks of mindlessly difficult texts on physics were piled up on either side of the computer he sat in front of, and after a few minutes of relentless typing, Dipper leaned back to stretch his aching spine, glancing off to the side as someone from beyond the field of view tossed him one kind of energy drink or another, which the Pines boy happily cracked open and greedily drank. He looked tired and pale, but whenever he dove into his work, it seemed he didn't mind.

Dipper and Pacifica both seemed perfectly happy in this world where they weren't together. The only difference between the two visions was exactly, and only that: they weren't together.

"See that, Preston? There's a universe out there where they aren't just plowin' each other all day, making you red in the face with that dumb jealous rage you get! Yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about!"

That comment caused Northwest great grief, and with a hint of that indignant anger Bill jested about, he crossed his arms and screwed his eyes shut, growling inaudibly within his spatial confines. For his part, Bill only chuckled and continued his griefing.

"Yeah. Know what went different in that universe? Know what the one variable that gets the 'better outcome' is? It's you, Preston! You!"

The twin rings merged into one again, green lightning swirling round and round until a new image was formed. It was a short lived glimpse, but Preston, for what he saw, knew what it was showing: he himself, Preston Northwest, with all his pride and arrogance, decided for once in his life to let something that unsettled him simply take its course. It upset him, yes, that his daughter, his one and only child, would ever dally with the Pines boy… but this time, Preston opted not to interfere. They thought they were in love, but he knew, deep down, that time was the test to beat.

And in letting them have at each other, his daughter and the boy, Preston was proven right in his belief. Time, without the pressure of Preston trying to tear them apart, inevitably, irreversibly, forced them apart. Because in the end, without a reason like Preston Northwest, or Bill Cipher, or traveling to the distant future to take what you want and save the person you love, Dipper Pines and Pacifica Northwest eventually came to the understanding that they were two different people with two different ideas of where they wanted to be.

And this was a most bitter elixir to drink.

"Your sin is your arrogance, Preston Northwest." Bill uttered with incomparable venom. "Such hubris to think you could just take what you want… you sold me your soul, your future, and all your dreams, thinking you could take and take from the world. It's your fault you're here, in more ways than one."

He dashed the scrying circle to the background and banished the alternative world view with a frustrated grunt. A moment later, Bill loomed large in front of Preston's view, perhaps no longer interested in entertaining him, possibly eager to terrify his prisoner, but either way, Bill was simply done with him.

"Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit a fall!"

The square that Preston was trapped within shattered, and he was lost within those shards as they drifted idly in the void for the seconds that followed before a hole opened in the pitch black. It was in fact not a hole, but the toothy maw of some god forsaken thing that swam through the inky space it appeared in like water. He saw it from inside one of the shards that he was still somehow bound within, that mass of doom appearing in the scattered vision of his left eye while its associated sliver of space spun haphazardly, and in the moment before the cosmic horror was swallowing the drifting bits all in one nasty gulp, Preston Northwest screamed out a loud, less than mute scream. It was cut short by the sickly snap of the perfectly round mouth of the tentacled monstrosity, which in turn disappeared from view as quickly as it appeared.

Bill sighed happily and leaned back as if sitting in an easy chair that never was. With that done, his work for the evening, morning, or whatever it may be was finished. Maybe he'd drop a line to Discord or Kyubey and see what they were doing with their immortality? It had been a while since he checked in on the Kyubey continuum to see what they were up to; he wondered how their Karmic Law experiment was going, in his own mischievous, mean-spirited way of wondering. Hmm… perhaps later. Bill Cipher, for the moment, was struck with an urge to check in with some more mundane "friends" just to say he was keeping an eye on them. What kind of friend wouldn't do that?

A new ring in the ether opened up, this time a vivid, smooth thing of violet that drew an unbroken, flawless circle in front of the well-hatted fiend. The space inside the viewer rippled like pond water until the called image was revealed in full: a suburban living room furnished with excellent taste, a far wall decorated with a number of framed college degrees, a side table with a candid photograph of Dipper and Pacifica, faces pressed together at the cheek looking at a camera that one or the other held in front of them. The sensor panned away from the faintly lit living room toward the dining room, which, besides being well-lit in comparison, was also occupied. Sitting across from each other, sharing coffee and a laugh, were a Dipper and Pacifica perhaps a few years older than when Bill had showed them previously. Bill would never acknowledge the fact, but here and now they were much happier.

He didn't care to listen at first, and perhaps he already knew what they would be talking about. The situation suggested they were relating the day's happenings over refreshments. Their exchange was broken though; Dipper, quick as lightning, turned his head about and instinctively rose to his feet. He wore a look of concern. This was a part Bill was sure he wanted to hear: this was a new episode, after all. Who knows what'll happen next?

"Sit, sit." Pacifica said softly, standing slowly and sashaying around the table until she was next to Dipper. She kissed him gently and nudged him back to his seat before leaving the table and strolling to the hall.

She followed the hallway to the source of the sound that had disturbed their conversation, but conveniently gone quiet, guided by the soft glow of LED night lights that occupied a couple of sockets along the way. Pacifica smiled as she thought about how much she loved designing her house, furnishings and all. She had decided, for instance, that she was tired of darkness, and adding a soft glow to her life was overdue. Dipper had once told her that while that was poetic, it was also a bit a silly. Pfft! He was a bit silly!

Bill's scrying field followed Pacifica while she walked, and he paid closer attention when she stopped in her tracks and searched the air behind her. Her face, it was plain to see, had the look of someone who felt like they were being followed. Rightly so, Bill thought, but she could never see the sensor. She was distracted again by a faint whimper and a tiny cry, so she abandoned her search for the unseen watcher and instead turned her attention to a nearby door. With a flick of the wrist, Pacifica opened the door and quietly slipped inside the nursery.

In three steps, Pacifica Pines was leaning silently over the side of her daughter's crib, looking down at the infant as she stirred from her slumber and began to cry. Shushing her softly while she picked the pink-pajamaed infant up from her bedding, Pacifica held her child close and rocked her back and forth. The young woman spent maybe ten minutes running through her "the-baby-is-crying" mental check list, and after finding all was otherwise well, concluded she was spooked by a noise outside the window. The news did say a storm front was going to be blowing in. Checking the window, finding it locked and secure, Pacifica allayed any errant fears of intruders or damages before her daughter started to cry a little more.

"Shh, shh, shh, sweetie, it's okay…" Pacifica whispered sweetly, taking her child back toward the crib, pausing to cradle her and swaying back and forth. This soothed the crying baby a bit, but only a bit. "It's okay, Gracie, shh. How about a lullaby, hmm?"

Pacifica rocked Gracie back and forth in her arms a moment, smiling and calling to mind the nursery rhyme she'd taken a liking to during her time with Dipper. She smothered the laugh that came to heart whenever she remembered him performing the little dance that came with it.

"Well who wants a lamby, lamby, lamby…? I do! I do!"

Her voice lilted gracefully, and almost immediately the child ceased to cry and was caught in rapt attention.

"So go up and greet your mammy, mammy, mammy… Hi there! Hi there!"

Pacifica planted a tiny kiss on Gracie's forehead.

"So march, march, march around the daisies…"

Satisfied that Gracie was satisfied, and very quiet now, Pacifica slowly returned the sleepy baby to her crib, stroked her cheek while her tiny eyes drifted shut, and slipped silently back to the door…

"Don't, don't, don't you forget about the ba-aby."

And she pulled the door shut, leaving the nursery tucked into the colorful glow Gracie's color-wheel night light and the gentle blanket of the peaceful night.

The End.

Thank you for reading.


End file.
